#was I supposed to make a post introducing myself

[siredtosturniolos]

First of all I’m sorry if this is the wrong place to send requests in. I’m new to tumblr so I have no clue how to use this platform 😭anyways I have a request I’m begging on hands and knees for a chris fic where reader is 18 and he’s 23. reader is a influencer (u can make up where they met) ENEMIES TO LOVERS KINDA and SMUTTTTTTT with praising (lots of praising and pet names) u can make up the whole story it should just be based off these things thank uuuu

Enemies

Paring: Chris Sturniolo x reader 

Summary: You had socially climbed the ladder to fame and gotten your very own spot on the Vidcon lineup. Freshly 18 meant you were fully able to go on your own, and meet some of your favorite content creators yourself. And Chris. You didn’t particularly like him, as he had been rude to you ever since you met him. You confront him and things turn a different direction than you thought.

Warnings: Smut! Praising, pet names, enemies to lovers(kinda? Maybe this means part 2?). Read at your own risk and mdni! (First pov) 

Authors note: thank you for requesting this! I hope you like it. <3

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Walking the halls of VidCon the day before the event took place really helped me ground myself. I couldn’t believe I was here, let alone someone thousands of fans wanted to meet. I started a YouTube channel in October of 2021, and it’s only gone up from there. Posting various forms of content such as vlogs, get ready with me, makeup tutorials, and even a couple cooking videos. 

I just hit 5 million subscribers, so on top of doing VidCon I was also hosting my own meet and greet the day after. I was hoping to make some connections and see if anyone would want to come celebrate this milestone with me. 

Even though I have been successful for a while now, I had just moved to LA last month. I’ve been to a party here and there, making a few friends along the way. I take a seat on a bench outside to soak up some sun, and so I can really reflect on what my life has become. 

Jake, Johnnie, and Tara are supposed to be here today as well and I couldn’t be more thankful. They had introduced me to so many of their friends in the last few weeks, most of them being welcoming.

Larray and I had clicked instantly and had hung out a few times, but he wasn’t set to be here this weekend. He had already made plans with other friends so he couldn’t come keep me company. He promised me that Nick Sturniolo would be down to let me hangout with him until I was comfortable, and I was super appreciative of that. 

Chris Sturniolo though? Not so much. I’ll never forget the way his eyes raked down my body, stopping at my chest for a moment before he looked back up at my face. 

“Hey baby, I don’t think we’ve met before?” 

I rolled my eyes at how corny he was, slightly drunk and incredibly stupid. Once he realized he wasn’t getting in my pants he had completely ignored me. I also met Nick and Matt later on, and they were absolute sweethearts. 

Ever since that night any time a fan would bring me up in a live stream of his, he’d ask them to either stop talking, or call me boring and move on to the next question. I had reached out to him asking him to stop, as his fanbase had jumped to my socials and started going insane. 

Every time I messaged him, he’d read it and not respond. Nick would occasionally bring me up in videos and it was clear as day Chris didn’t like me, and his fans made it known. Clipping it and tagging me thousands of times nearly made me delete TikTok all together. 

I had come to find out Chris was actually really nice to everyone, just not me. I’m not quite sure what I could’ve done to make him be so rude to me, but it’s not like I see him all the time. Maybe I’ll have a chance to speak to him in person, and make him really hear me out. 

“Y/N!” A voice called out to me, making me jump. I watched as Jake walked up to me, “Tara has been looking for you, yapping about getting ready for tonight.” He explains, shrugging his shoulders. 

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Tonight?” I ask, standing from the bench and letting him lead me to Tara. “They’re hosting a party tonight for us at the hotel apparently. Something to kick off the event? Fuck if I know.” Jake laughed. 

The next few hours flew by and before I knew it, Tara and I were letting loose and dancing to Just Dance by Lady Gaga. I had a few drinks in me, just enough to stop worrying about everything. Tara on the other hand, is gonna have a hangover from hell tomorrow. 

“I have to pee!” I yell to Tara as the song fades out, she nods and gives me two thumbs up before I begin to head towards the bathroom just outside the ballroom the party was in. 

Just as I’m about to enter I hear snickering behind me, making me turn around. I come face to face with none other than Chris. His eyes were burning into me, as he slowly approached, a stupid smirk on his face. 

“What are you laughing about?” I ask him, letting out a deep sigh.

He shakes his head, “You look ridiculous.” He states, like it’s a known fact. I glance down at my outfit, a simple black tube top and cargo camo pants. My black and white Nike’s were clean and uncreased, so what the hell was he talking about? 

I look back up to him as his 5’8 frame slightly towers over my own, “What did I do to make you hate me so much?” I calmly asked him, as surprise flooded his features. Apparently he wasn’t expecting me to call him out in person. 

He stood there for a second, staying silent as he didn't know what to say, “Oh so you just hate me for no reason? Nice.” I scoff, before turning around to enter the bathroom. I was stopped by a gentle grip on my arm, making me look over my shoulder at Chris. 

“Look, I don’t really know why I act like this, okay?” He sighs, dropping his hand as I turn to face him again, “Ever since I met you at that party, I just can’t get you off my mind.” He explains, taking a step closer to me. Now I can smell his cologne and I hate to admit that it’s doing something to me. 

“Don’t make fun of me.” He continues, making my eyebrow raise in curiosity, “When we locked eyes that night it felt different to me. It felt like more than just two people meeting for the first time.” He says quietly, looking me in my eyes so I knew he wasn’t lying, “It scared the shit out of me.” 

I start to smile slightly, making him roll his eyes, “Are you telling me you fell in love with me at first sight?” I tease him, making him throw his head back and groan. “Just stop being rude Chris, we could’ve been something this whole time you know?” I tell him, watching as his eyes meet my lips before looking away quickly. 

“Wanna make up for lost time?” He suggests, making me glance around the hallway we were in. There were a few people scattered around, but none of them were paying attention to us. I look up at him to see that sexy smirk on his lips, “Fuck it.” I shrug, before I drag him into the bathroom with me. I lock the door before I’m pushed up against it, Chris pressing kisses to my cheeks before going down my neck. 

I let out a soft moan, lifting my hands to slide them into Chris’ hair and tugging slightly as he found my sweet spot, “No marks please.” I plead him, feeling his tongue lather the area before he moves lower. His kisses get harsher the lower he gets, looking up at me slightly before he returns to his full height and slams his lips on mine. 

I moan into the kiss, the tension between us coming to a peak, “Jump.” He mumbles into my lips, wrapping his arms around my waist. I use his shoulders for stability as I jump and wrap my legs around his waist. He pulls back so he can walk me to the sink, and I waste no time trailing kisses down his neck. Chris sets me down on the counter and spreads my legs so he can stand in between them. 

“Gonna make you feel so good baby.” He rasps, tilting his head back as I continue my assault on his neck. I make my way back up to his lips, taking him in for a split second before we kiss again. His hair is disheveled, his lips swollen from our kissing, and his eyes. They’re full of lust and determination, and I can’t help but try to clench my thighs. 

Chris smirks at me, playing with my top, “Can I take this off pretty girl?” He asks, to which I rapidly nod. Chris’ fingers slip underneath the fabric of my shirt briefly, before he snaps the band against my chest making me gasp. He wastes no time as he quickly takes it off, setting it somewhere behind me. His hands instantly cup my breasts, his lips slotted back onto mine. 

His large palms squeeze my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples making me let out a whine. I tug at his shirt and he pulls away to take it off, “Fucking incredible.” He mutters, letting his eyes fall onto my chest as I pant. He leans down, taking my nipple into his mouth, and my hand flies to the back of his head, arching my chest into his chest. 

“Fuck Chris.”  I moan, my hips bucking as that’s where I really want him. He switches sides, letting his hand trail down my body to pop open my pants, pulling away to look at me. “I’m about to ruin you, sweetheart.” He lowly speaks, making me bite my lip as I begin to help him remove my pants. I kicked off my shoes and Chris played with the band of my underwear. 

“Please Chris.” I beg him, already tired of his teasing. 

“Good girls say what they want.” He replies, using one hand to tease me through my damp underwear, the other dancing across my inner thighs. 

I let out a huff, “Please touch me.” I plead, reaching down to move his hand exactly where I want him, “Make me feel good.” 

Chris smirks at me, “Good girl.” I gasp as his hand suddenly slips lower, finally giving my body what it’s been craving for. His fingers collect my wetness, spreading it down to my opening, making my back arch with need. I open my mouth to beg him again but I’m cut off by him slipping a finger inside, his thumb connecting with my pulsating clit. 

“Chris!” I gasp, his fingers work mercilessly, the coil in my stomach already building. I let out whines and moans, already feeling fuzzy as he continues to work my body closer to my climax. 

“Look at me, baby.” Chris demands, making my eyes flutter open, “I want you to look at me as I make you cum.” He continues, working another finger inside my core. My jaw drops in a silent moan as his eyes bore into mine. I feel myself begin to clench around his fingers as he hits my sweet spot over and over. 

“There it is.” He smirks down at me, and half of me wants to tell him to stop, that the pleasure is too much. The other half of me wants to be greedy, and welcome the waves of ecstasy as they flow through my body. 

“Feels so good.” I whine out, watching the way Chris glances down at his fingers as they disappear inside of me, “So close.” I moan, feeling the coil twisting tighter and tighter.  

“Yeah? Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He asks me, and that's all it takes. The coil snaps and I fight to keep my eyes open as I release all over his fingers. Chris lets out a groan, mumbling praises left and right as I come down from my high. 

I’m still in a daze when he helps me off the counter and spins me around to face the mirror. He lifts his hand to my neck, tugging my body to be flush with his. I gasp as I feel his hard dick pressing against my ass, I didn’t even notice he took off his pants. 

“Gonna watch me while I fuck you, baby?” He asks, meeting my eyes in the mirror. I nod rapidly, “You look away once and I stop, got it?” Chris speaks, as he helps me bend forward and kicks my legs apart further for him. 

“Yes sir.” I reply, a small smirk on my lips as I back my ass further into him, making Chris grin. “Keep that up and you won’t make it to the event tomorrow.” 

He takes hold of his dick, running his head through my folds, bumping my clit making me whine. He pumps himself a few times before he’s teasing my entrance. I pout up at his reflection, arching my back even more to show how impatient I was. He takes that as a sign to slowly thrust into me, making my jaw drop at the burn from the stretch. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groans, one hand resting on my hip, the other coming to hold onto my shoulder. He waits a moment before he begins thrusting, my body shaking each time he fills me up. “Feels so good.” Chris moans out, his hand leaving my hip to deliver a harsh smack to my ass, rubbing the now red area soothingly afterwards. 

At this point, I can’t even form words and of course Chris took notice, “Got my baby all fucked out already.” He states, smacking my ass again. “Can’t wait to wreck this pussy.” He grunts out, his thrusts getting quicker and harder. 

My mouth hangs open in a silent moan, my eyes never leaving his. “Such a good girl, keeping your eyes on mine.” I feel the coil in my stomach reappear, and I can’t help but try to squirm away from Chris as the pleasure builds, “Don’t you fucking run away from me.” Chris spits, lowering both arms to grip my waist as he plows into me.

“T-Too much!” I finally whine out, clenching on him as his head nudges that sweet spot within my core. 

Chris shakes his head, “You can take it baby.” He lets out a rather loud moan before his thrusts start to get sloppy, “Be a good girl and take it.” He grunts out, sliding a hand to my front, quickly finding my clit and rubbing fast circles. 

My legs begin to shake, “I’m-” I’m cut off by a rather loud moan as Chris angles his hips upwards, bringing me even more pleasure. “Me too baby, fuck.” Chris moans, lowering his Chin to his chest as he watches himself slide in and out of me. 

“Cum with me.” He demands, my legs begin to shake as he meets my eyes as the coil within me finally snaps. I can feel myself pushing and pulling him in as I cum, and the feeling of his shooting out makes it all the more pleasurable. Chris finally halts his movements, staying buried inside. 

He gently pulls out, both of us wincing. He quickly cleans himself up and slides his pants back on before he turns to me. He rubs my cheek lovingly before he helps me clean up and get redressed. I quickly check my makeup and fix it, before turning to face him. 

“You’re staying with me tonight.” He states, holding out his hand for me to take. I take it with a smile on my face. 

“I planned on it.”

[heartless-brainrot]

i did things

[loverboybitch]

hi i would just like to report that getting out of my house and being a member of society is cool and kind of rules even when its scary yeah.//.

[starlit-mansion]

the endless battle of 'it's good to have a few things that you encounter regularly that aren't fully in your comfort zone' and 'actually this is just making me uncomfortable in a crawly way every time i encounter it so i need to remember i'm allowed to just quietly cut it away even though i don't have a "good" or "real" reason'

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Werewolf Headcanons

I've been stalked by the guilty feeling that my Romanian Werewolf boy got a lot of backstory but not much romance or interaction. So there you have it: some headcanons featuring the ancient Beast, a post-kidnapping sequel.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, monster romance, mild NSFW at the end, ridiculously older yandere

You followed the gargantuan stranger back into the city, leaving the bloodbath behind as if it was just a distant dream. Admittedly, you’d expected to be dragged into some mountainous cave or an abandoned mansion, not the cozy - albeit a little dusty - apartment on a main, historical street. On second thought, he did function as a human outside of his monstrous escapades, so it made sense. “Is this your place?”, you sheepishly asked while he wiped the thick layers of blood off him. “One of them, yes”, he answered curtly. “It’s central”, you remarked, trying to make conversation. “Well, I didn’t know about it back then. It’s been a few decades.”

Your ears perked up at the words. Gazing at his features, he didn’t seem necessarily aged to you. The deep creases contouring his face felt more like a sign that he’s lived sorrows beyond most people’s comprehension. “How old are you?” You finally asked as curiosity replaced your initial fear. He abruptly stopped his movements and leaned back, brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was born in the 80s”, he concluded. “That’s not too far back, is it?” You inquired, this time more relaxed. “80 BC, I meant. You do the math.”

He freshened himself up as you counted the millennia on your fingers, frowning in confusion. He chuckled at your intense focus, then quickly looked up into the mirror. When was the last time he smiled like this? The reflection was a foreign sight to him. “We’ll get you everything you need tomorrow”, he continued, still in a daze. What a strange idea, having someone to speak to after an eternity. And suddenly, it occurred to him just how rusted his communication had gotten: “I’m so sorry, I haven’t asked for your name once”, he said, embarrassed. “It’s (Y/N). And you are...?" Might as well introduce yourself to your benevolent captor.

The dreaded question. How did they call him back in the day? He hasn't had anyone spell it out for him, nor did he feel the need at any point to say it himself. Why would he? He hadn't anticipated meeting you. With pursed lips, he searched his mind. Eventually, from the depths or memories, from days of yore, it made its way back: "Daos."

Given your first gory encounter (where he quite literally murdered everyone else), you were surprised to find out he's otherwise a calm and polite individual. Well, he's had centuries to mature, you suppose. You've also noticed he has that rather old-fashioned chivalry to him. He's very attentive despite his stoic demeanor, and often follows with acts of service.

"You're insulting me. I can carry this myself with ease", you'll argue. "I never doubted you can. Nonetheless, it is my wish to do it for you."

As the days pass, your reluctance seems to vanish as well. In fact, you've become particularly cheeky, encouraged by his warm, unperturbed behavior. Maybe you haven't gotten the worst deal out there, after all.

"You know, you talk like an old man", you've teased him once. He was visibly taken aback by your statement, and you could discern a faint blush on his face. "Do I? My apologies, I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I'm not familiar with modern speech. Have I embarrassed you somehow?"

He spends his free time reading, though he will frequently take you on walks. It's an interesting affair to say the least. You can feel the curious eyes of the passersby and hear their not-so-discreet whispered gossip. You can't truly blame them: Daos is enormous even as a human. He towers above everyone else with his imposing appearance. To match, his voice is deep and coarse as a result of not using it much until recently.

The ancient werewolf is a living history book. If asked, he will narrate to you important events or details you might be curious about regarding his culture. Once, when he'd been in a good mood, he even shared fragments of his life before turning into a creature. He'd been a high-ranked Dacian warrior, spending his days training or fighting. He still remembers the flag he carried with bitter fondness, yet another irony to his fate: a wolf-headed serpent. It was meant to showcase their way of life; barbarians with no fear of death. They'd greeted the Roman Empire with nothing but a sword and a shield, no shred of doubt.

He might've been betrayed by his people, but the pride remains. The pride of a soldier who's never known defeat. You learned quickly that his beastly form doesn't count as a significant change by any means, save for appearances. The man has brute strength even as a human. You'd once strayed from his view, and a stranger approached with a daring whistle, gawking you up and down. Before you could react, Daos clawed him by the throat. You heard the twist of the skin and the creak of the bones giving in to the immense pressure of his large hand.

"It's the second time I have exposed you to such unpleasant sights", he said, discarding the body as if it was any other garbage. "Forgive me, but I will not have you disrespected like this."

He is very much aware he's taken you away from the world out of his own selfish desire. The fact that you accepted it is more than he could ever ask for. That's what he keeps telling himself, even as his eyes wander to your lips whenever you speak. Or as his hand lingers a moment too long against the curve of your back. Or as he hungrily takes in your scent whenever you're nearby.

He might be unhealthily possessive of you, but Daos will never do anything against your will. No matter how obvious his urges are. In fact, no amount of flirting or teasing will shake his resolve. You will have to be very direct with your approval.

Once the reality settles in, he'll become extremely affectionate, bordering on obsessive. To think he could have you in every way possible. Oh, he's waited thousands of years for you. All the suffering, the loneliness, the anger, they're stripped of any meaning now that he has you.

The city strolls at an awkward distance have since become a habitual excuse to hold your hand and show you off to the mortals. The quiet evenings of passing time with a book now include your merely noticeable weight cuddled into his lap. You didn't expect him to be this adoring. Being touch-starved for millennia counts as one reason, naturally, but there's more to it, so much more. And it all leads back to you.

He is a little taken aback when you ask him to do the deed in his werewolf form. "Don't be foolish. I can't overcome my instincts as well when I'm a creature. I could harm you", he'll lecture you. "Besides, you can barely take it as it currently is", he'll add, smirking at your baffled expression. It seems he's picked up on your cheekiness.

After a lot of pleading and waiting for the right moment - when he's ravaging you in a daze - he finally agrees. True to his word, his tune instantly changes. The tender hold turns into a desperate grasp sinking into your skin, and the thrusts become irregular, almost frantic. His drool cools your burning cheeks as you hold onto the coarse fur, feverish and overwhelmed.

His golden eyes rest on the small human squirming underneath him, and suddenly, he can't help but notice: you have the perfect birthing hips.

[mediaevalmusereads]

Baking Yesteryear. By B. Dylan Hollis. DK, 2023.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: cookbook

Series: N/A

Summary: A decade-by-decade cookbook that highlights the best (and a few of the worst) baking recipes from the 20th century

Friends of baking, are you sick and tired of making the same recipes again and again? Then look no further than this baking blast from the past, as B. Dylan Hollis highlights the most unique tasty treats of yesteryear.

Travel back in time on a delicious decade-by-decade jaunt as Dylan shows you how to bake vintage forgotten greats. With a big pinch of fun and a full cup of humor, you’ll be baking everything from Chocolate Potato Cake from the 1910s to Avocado Pie from the 1960s.

Dylan has baked hundreds of recipes from countless antique cookbooks and selected only the best for this bakebook, sharing the shining stars from each decade. And because some of the recipes Dylan shares on his wildly popular social media channels are spectacular failures, he’s thrown in a few of the most disastrously strange recipes for you to try if you dare.

***Full review below.***

Since this book is non-fiction, my review will be structured a little different from normal.

I've had this book for a while, but I didn't want to post a review before making a few of the recipes myself. I was already a fan of Hollis from his TikToks, so that might introduce some bias into my review - just so you're all aware.

Overall, I found this book to be quirky, easy to follow, and fun. I loved the bright colors and retro-feel to the photo shoots, and I appreciated that almost all of the recipes were accompanied by a picture of the thing you're supposed to be making. I also liked the blurbs written by Hollis himself; they very much felt like his voice, with his characteristic sense of humor balanced by his genuine love for baking and "old things."

Perhaps the most valuable part of this book, however, was the emphasis on lowering barriers to entry. I've read my fair share of baking guides that call for special ingredients or equipment, and there are a lot of recipes out there that are finicky and sure ton dissuade new bakers. Hollis's book, however, emphasizes that most (if not all) of these recipes can be done with basic tools - one does not even need an electric mixer (though it does make some recipes easier). There also aren't many fancy ingredients that aren't readily available at most grocery stores, so that also helps.

I do, however, have some minor criticisms which relate to the usability of this book. For one, the organization makes it rather difficult to find a specific recipe (or even category), particularly if you're like me and don't recall what decade it came from. While organizing the recipes by decade makes sense given the book's premise, it does make it more functionally difficult - you can't flip to the cake section, for example, and browse or put yourself within the general vicinity of the recipe you're looking for. Thus, readers will have to rely on either the TOC or the index a lot more, but this is a minor inconvenience rather than a huge drawback.

I also don't think the majority of the recipes are blow-your-mind good, but honestly, given this book's premise, I don't think that's the worst thing. The recipes are largely taken from sources aimed at home bakers, so you're not going to get professional-level pastries out of them. You will, however, get things that are fun and relatively simple to make, and they taste good enough to me that I'd consider making them multiple times.

TL;DR: Baking Yesteryear is a fine book for fans of Hollis's TikTok, but it goes beyond being mere merch. It not only provides historical recipes that are easy to replicate, but it also does a good job of lowering barriers to entry for new bakers. Experienced bakers might not be overly impressed by the recipes, but engaging with food history is a treat in and of itself, and it's delightful to see someone like Hollis engaging with the past with such enthusiasm and adoration.

[swordsandholly]

Steel Magnolia

Part 1

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!plus size!reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature/MDNI

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I just recently got back into fandom spaces and reading fanfic again and looooove the uptick in fat Y/N characters. Ofc as a big girl myself I wanted to try my hand at writing one too.

Hopefully I’ll post this on AO3 soon. Whenever I get my invite so I can make an acc.

“Oh! Darlin’, did ya see those boys next door?” Mrs. Duprey gasps as you swipe the last of her Bubble Bath OPI polish across her fingers.

“Next door?” You cock an eyebrow. “No one’s been next door since Adam and Eve.”

“I saw them on the way in!” She grins, the corners of her eyes wrinkling pleasantly. “Strappin’ young men - y’should talk t’ ‘em.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure I will sooner or later, ma’am.”

“You’ve been single too long.” The nosey old bat contributes. As much as you love her she truly cannot leave well enough alone.

“And I’m perfectly content as such.” You give her your warmest smile.

The trailer home across from you has remained empty for as long as you can remember. It’s well kept - sometimes you see random gardeners mowing or going in an out with tool bags - but no one lives there permanently. You’d think in a beach town it would at least belong to some snowbirds. A timeshare, maybe. It’s none of those things, though. Just a well-maintained, perfectly empty husk.

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, probably.

Sure enough, as you walk Mrs. Duprey out of your little single wide trailer, you spot a black SUV parked out front of the neighboring double wide. One that is definitely *not* a repair man or worker’s vehicle. She coos at you to make sure to talk to them before waddling off to her own car. She really shouldn’t be driving at her age. You wonder briefly - futilly- if she’d sell you her car in exchange for rides.

You suppose she’s right - even if it is for the wrong reasons. You’re not particularly interested in flirting with the new neighbors. After all, don’t fuck where you eat is a saying for a reason, but it wouldn’t exactly be neighborly to not introduce yourself. Especially with all the people coming and going from your home for your nail tech services. The old Yankee’s catty-cornered from you still believe that you're a drug dealer. At least they only come down for a couple months of the year.

Despite your staunch decision not to flirt, you still find yourself adjusting your clothes. Maybe the sports bra as a top is a bit much…

Fuck it. If they live here now they’ll see you in worse.

You fix your lipstick and throw on your platform sandals. The ones that clip-clop as you walk. Maybe it will help announce your presence.

The screen door wraps quietly as you knock. You take two steps back on the front, wooden porch so as not to come off too aggressively. As the seconds tick by you debate on knocking again. Maybe they’re out. Or busy. They did just move in today, most likely. Maybe you should-

The door creaks slightly as it opens. A very, painfully handsome man pushes the screen door until it clicks in place. “Afternoon, lassie.”

You blink stupidly as he crosses his strong arms and leans on the doorframe. His eyes are a striking shade of blue - somehow both sharp and soft. His dark hair is shaped into a slightly grown-out, un-styled mohawk. It fits him oddly enough.

“I, uh,” you take a deep breath. Christ you need to get laid if just *looking* at a hot guy has you this off kilter. “I live across the way. Just wanted t’ say welcome t’ tha neighborhood.”

That lopsided smile on his face grows into a grin. You don’t miss the way his eyes catch on your chest. “Aye? Nice tae meet ye. Names John MacTavish. M’friends call me Johnny.”

He gives your hand an extra little squeeze after shaking it. That accent might as well have you on the floor. You continue to blink dumbly, watching the at the scar on his chin stretches as he speaks.

Christ almighty, you’re pathetic.

“Nice to meet’ya.” You give him a warm smile, tilting your head to the side slightly. “Ya’ll here for vacation? We don’t get many Europeans ‘round here.”

He chuckles. It’s low and rumbling and would probably feel wonderful with your ear pressed to his chest. “Little bit o’ business, little bit o’ pleasure. This an’ tha’.”

“Hello, there.” Another man pops up from behind Johnny suddenly. Fucking hell, he’s gorgeous too. Older, for sure, with a uniquely cut beard that would probably look rather silly on anyone less handsome. At it stands, he manages to make it appear dignified.

“Ah, jus’ about tae call fer ye, Cap. This is our neighbor.” Johnny gestures toward you.

“John Price.” The man steps forward to shake your hand. It’s firm and professional and thank god your grandad made you practice a good handshake as a kid or you’d be painfully embarrassed.

“Are all UK men named John or is this just some sorta cult?” You blurt, unable to stop yourself from snickering at them.

Older John chuckles at you fondly, his facial hair giving him a pleasant U-shaped smile. “Be easier to remember that way, wouldn’t it? No, we’re with two others. Kyle and Simon. They’re out at the moment.”

“Kyle and Simon.” You repeat, nodding. Johnny, John, Kyle, Simon. “Are y’all in town long?”

“Indefinitely.” Is all Price gives you. It’s a tone that even someone as dense as you can recognize as ‘don’t ask more.’

You clap your hands together and smile a little wider, ready to make your exit. “Well, I’m not here t’be a bother, just wanted t’ welcome ya and, uh, let y’know that I have a lot of people over throughout the day - I’m a nail tech. They shouldn’t bother ya but y’know.”

“Ye can come bother us anytime, bonnie.” The Scot hits you with that grin again and your face suddenly feels far too hot.

A loud, whining screech sounds off from down the road. You check your watch. Holy shit, three-thirty already. You begin to back off the porch. “Ah, nice t’ meet ya again! See ya ’round!”

As you jog down the little dirt road of the trailer park another black car passes you. It’s smaller, a sedan. You make very brief eye contact with a blonde wearing a surgical mask and another man with the sharpest golden eyes you’ve ever seen - even through the tint of the window.

*Kyle and Simon,* you think.

You make a mental note to greet them at some point and continue down the street. The school bus slowly stops at the entrance and you take up your spot in the small crowd of parents. IT’s a shabby old bus - chipping paint and break pads that sounds like they’re about ready to snap. It’s all they’re willing to send out to your little section of the city, though.

Shelby meanders over in your direction, her usual Camel Crush lit up in one hand and the other teasing her already well-lifted hair. “Afternoon. Saw there was some new folks across from ya.”

“Hm?” You keep your eyes on the bus. “Ah, yeah. Just vacationers, I think.”

“Lookers, though.” She chuckles.

“They’re from the UK.” You offer.

“No shit!” Shelby stamps out her cigarette as the bus doors open. “Accent and all?”

“Yep.” You grin.

Shelby tsks and fiddles with her hair again. “I best go over an’ make myself known, then.”

“There’s an older fella with a neat beard. Think you’d like ‘em.” You snicker.

She hums. “I’ll bring a pie.”

The children practically burst out of the bus doors, as always. Ready to be home and shuck off their backpacks to their respective adult. Shelby’s son almost knocks her over, offering a little “Good afternoon, ma’am!” to you before heading off with his mother.

You nod to him, shoving a hand in your pocket as you wait for yours. She’s always the last. Always caught up in a book or something and doesn’t realize it’s time to get off of the bus. Sure enough, the driver has to call back to her before the little girl comes dashing out. She jumps off of the bus steps, despite being told time and time again not to, and kicks a rock on her way toward you.

You bow low for her. “Welcome home, Lady Sophie.”

She giggles, dark curls bouncing as she skips over. “Ni-ni!”

You take her bag from her. The thing really does dwarf the poor six year old. Her hand slips into yours easily. Soft and round and somehow always so much warmer than yours.

“My nail color chipped!” She announces, holding up her ring finger on the opposite hand.

“Oh! Now we can’t have that. I’ll fix it tonight.” You smile, waving at old Mr.Chester as the two of you pass.

“Well now!” He calls. “How blessed am I to see two such lovely ladies!”

You both giggle, continuing on your way. He’s a good landlord - spotted you more than a few times when Sophie was a baby and you couldn’t work consistently. Honestly, as you look around, the little community that he’s managed to build in this shitty corner of the world should be praised. Housing just enough snowbirds to cover his property costs while keeping rent low for the full time locals. Maybe you could convince Natalie at the paper to run a little story on it or something.

As you pull up to your own home, the blonde man is outside leaning on the front of their double wide. Seeing him standing at full height makes your blood run cold. The man is built like a damn barn - tall and wide. Beyond solid. *Brick shithouse*. It’s a bit weird that he’s covered in clothing head to toe but whatever. Weirder things have happened before. The mask still covers his face, you wonder if he had taken it off before you came up or just flipped it up to smoke.

“Sophie, head on in. I’ll catch up.” You push her toward the door. She scampers in, the screen door slamming behind her as you march up to the brick shithouse of a man in front of you.

“Which are ya? Kyle or Simon?” You smile, holding out your hand to shake.

Dark eyes rake over you, stopping briefly on your hand, before moving back to meet yours. He stomps out the half smoked cigarette. “Simon.”

You let your hand drop. Bit rude, this one. “Nice t meetcha.”

The other man pops his head out of the trailer. Kyle, you assume. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hi.” You smile as warmly as you can, giving your name. “I’m assumin’ yer Kyle.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I’m guessing you’re the neighbor Price mentioned.”

You nod, about to speak again but Simon shoves past you, marching his way up the steps. “Let’s go.” He grunts, pushing the other man back into the trailer despite his protests.

You wrinkle your nose at him. What an asshole.

“Who’s tha’?” Sophie asks over the back of the old, worn couch as you let the trailer door slam behind you.

“New neighbors.” You say simply, glancing out the window. “Don’t go over there without me, yeah?”

“Okay!” She agrees, sitting back on the couch and bouncing, beginning her usual post school chant. “Bluey! Bluey! Bluey!”

You drop her backpack down beside the small coffee table. “After yer homework.”

“Nooo!” She pouts.

“Then no Bluey.”

Sophie pouts harder but crawls down in front of the coffee table and pulls out her little work sheets. At least the school doesn’t over run them too terribly with homework toward the end of the year. You glance at the calendar. Wednesday, May 22nd. Damn, she really only has about a week left. Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to this summer break with her. She’s old enough now that you can take her places like the arcade without having to wait on her so much. You’ll actually be able to play some of the two-player games.

Plus, this year, you actually have a little more pocket change to make it fun.

You turn to look out the window once more at the new neighbors. Their curtains remain closed, cars neatly parked out front. The door opens slowly, the hot Scot and rude blonde wander to the Sedan. Simon’s shoulders shake at something Johnny said - you think he’s laughing but its hard to tell with that mask. Johnny’s head turns, blue eyes meeting yours through the shitty glass windows of your trailer. You squeak and duck to sit next to Sophie, praying that he didn’t catch you staring.

[cheeseceli]

When your parents don't like them

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!Reader (individually)

Genre: reverse hurt/comfort? Angst? A little bit of fluff perhaps; reaction

Description: their reaction to not having the approval of your parents in their first meeting (established relationship)

Warnings: not proofread; a lot of overthinking and self doubt in most of the scenarios; the length of each story is not favouritsm!! It's just that some scenarios required more details than others

A/n: I should have posted this one a long time ago... Oh well. And I am literally the mix of Han and Lee Know, this would 100% happen to me if I were in their shoes

Bang Chan

‌HE'S SO SHOCKED

‌Parents always love him, so why didn't yours?

‌He believes he took it for granted

‌But he was so sure your family would love him

‌Rethinks everything he said and did

‌And thinks about what he could've done

‌He'll be up all night because of it, you better believe me

"Maybe it's the outfit I was wearing?"

"Chan, for God's sake, go to sleep."

"Seriously though, do you think my clothes weren't appropriate?"

"There was nothing wrong with how you looked baby."

"... So maybe I didn't introduce myself properly?"

"Chan."

Lee Know

‌ He knew he had to talk

‌ But it turns out he was too scared

‌And your parents just aggravated his problem

‌ He'd give only short answers and would only speak when spoken with

‌ Because of that your parents didn't see him as a really charismatic guy

‌ But I swear he was trying his best

"I swear it wasn't as bad as it seemed."

"It was horrible. I doubt any of your parents even know what my voice sounds like."

"You were nervous. I'm sure they'll understand. If you'd like I can talk to them about it."

"Please, don't. The last thing I want is for your parents to think that besides being awkward I'm a coward as well."

"They don't think either of those things. You'll see, you guys just need to know each other a little bit more. They'll love you."

Even with his worried expression, he gave you a small smile "I hope so".

Changbin

‌ You warned him he was getting too close

‌ He was holding your hand, caressing your thigh, hugging you too tight, kissing you a lot...

‌ All the time

‌ And yes, you both were dating for a while now

‌ But your parents didn't really appreciate the attitude

‌ And truly, he thought that by doing that he was showing how much he treasured and loved you

‌ Sadly your parents didn't understand his actions like he planned

"But what was I supposed to do? Stay away from you?"

"Ideally, yes"

Changbin pouted, not even realising it "but I'm your boyfriend"

"They are not used to this fact just yet. Don't worry though, they still have a lot of time to like you. Just wait and see"

Hyunjin

‌ Similar to Chan, Hyunjin didn't expect to be rejected by your parents

‌of course, he wasn't expecting to make the fall in love immediately, but he knew he had some charms

‌and he actually put a lot of effort into impressing them so when it doesn't work he's like

‌genuinely sad

‌And he's scared your relationship might change now that he doesn't have your family approval right away.

"So... About the dinner"

"They are always like this, don't worry"

"How come?"

"I knew they were gonna play hard to get. But don't you stress over it, sooner or later they will realise there is no need to act like it"

"So I can still convince them into not hating me?"

"Why would they hate you? You were really boyfriend material if you ask me"

He laughed, a little bit more relieved "They were kinda... aggressive back there, y'know?"

"Ugh, sorry about that. I swear things will get better"

"You're not mad?"

"Of course not. Why would I be?"

"I thought you'd get sad or something like that since the meeting didn't go that well"

"I'm a bit sad, yeah. But it's not your fault. You did your best. Besides, it won't last that long. It's kinda hard to hate on the Hwang Hyunjin for too long"

He laughed again, openly this time as he replied "I hope you are right"

Han

‌The problem wasn't exactly what he did

‌The problem was that he didn't do anything

‌Literally anything

‌ He'd excuse himself to go to the bathroom to avoid any questions

‌He barely moved besides that

‌After a while your dad even forgot he was there

‌And Han wished he could disappear

"I'm so, so sorry"

"Ji, it's okay"

"I was gonna answer your mother, I swear. But she was looking at me with daggers in her eyes"

"You were just fine"

"Fine? Y/n, your dad sighed in relief after I left the room. They must see me as a loser"

"I'm sure they don't. Besides, you still have a lot of time left to win them over. I know they'll love you"

Felix

‌Your parents loved him actually

‌They just don't think he is fit to be your boyfriend

‌They think that his angel face and sweet personality wouldn't give you enough security throughout your life

‌And Felix wants to prove himself to your parents so badly now

‌He will use his deep voice privilege to try to prove his point

‌He will go to the gym with Changbin until he's "intimidating" enough

‌And he won't fail on reminding them how he has over 60 medals on taekwondo

"How do I look?"

"Great, as always"

"But do I look intimidating? Scary?"

"Lix..."

"But not too scary. I need to look threatening to others but reliable to you"

"You look like someone my parents will like"

"They already like me, but not enough to like our relationship"

"They will though. Soon enough they will appreciate everything that comes along with you, trust me."

Felix smiled and nodded, feeling a certain comfort into your words as you headed to the door

"Just for the record, you do look threatening but reliable"

"Oh thank you. I was going crazy over this"

Seungmin

‌If your parents don't like Seungmin then the problem is on them

‌just kidding

‌Seriously though, I can't imagine why they wouldn't like him

‌And neither can Seungmin himself

‌So he truly thinks that everything was a misunderstanding and that it's only a matter of time until your whole family falls in love with him

‌He will face it like a challenge

"What about we invite your parents to our apartment this weekend?"

"We just saw them less than an hour ago"

"I think we should see them again"

"Did you like them that much?"

"They seem cool. But they also seem to hate me. I need to change their minds"

"What? They didn't hate you at all"

"Your father's glare would disagree. But that doesn't matter that much because by the end of this week they will love me"

"You seem certain"

"Of course I am. I can't have them hating me for the rest of our lives, can I?"

"They don't hate you. They are just... hard to please"

"I'll change this" he faced you with a confident smile "I give you my word"

I.N

‌Kinda clueless

‌Totally clueless actually

‌He can't understand what he did wrong but apparently he did something awful considering your parents disliked him that much

‌Will try to find ways to apologise

‌Will gift them and try to keep a conversation even when you're not around

"Does your mother like flowers? She does, right? Every mother does"

"What are you doing?"

"You said that she invited us to lunch this Friday. I don't want to go see her with empty hands again. Maybe that's what made her hate me so much the first time"

"She doesn't care about those things, Innie"

"No? Then why doesn't she like me?"

"She's just hard to satisfy, you know. But I bet she'll like you in no time. She just needs to get to know you better"

"You keep saying that but I don't know, I feel like that won't happen any time soon. I really want her to approve me"

He had that hopeless expression again, that one that really wanted to change the situation but didn't know how to. You really hated seeing him disappointed on himself.

"Lilies" you said

"What?"

"Those are my mother's favourites. Lilies"

"Oh my God, thank you" he got up and kissed the top of your head lightly, before going to the door of your shared apartment "I'll be right back"

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated! | masterlist

[mostmouse]

The Swordsmith with a Cute Name

Hotaru Haganezuka has gone missing in the swordsmith village, surely his wife must know where he is, right? The thing is, he sort of only visits at night.

(Hotaru Haganezuka x f!reader, explicit, 5,800 words, slight yandere themes) as always - cross posted to my AO3 :)

Tanjiro marveled at the entrance of the Swordsmith Village, the architecture striking him. Growing up in the mountains, he had never really been exposed to such buildings, and he didn’t want to count his time in the entertainment district. Waving to the people milling about on his way to the chief’s residence, he sniffed the air, trying to see if he could scent his own swordsmith. While he could catch a faint smell, he couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from.

Moving into the chief’s home, he listened to the older man speak of Mr. Haganezuka, balking as he openly threatened the man. Tecchin sighed, “We’re searching high and low for him, and I’m sure his wife has met with him in these last few months, but I can’t catch her with him!” He pouted, “I don’t have it in me to ask her to set a trap though, it’s already a miracle that Hotaru even managed to find a woman who would tolerate him.”

Tanjiro gasped before lighting up, “Mr. Haganezuka is married?! That’s wonderful!” Tecchin sighed delightedly, holding his cheek in his hands.

“Isn’t it just so? I raised him, so I know how difficult it can be. No matter what that woman has ever done, she’s a pure hearted angel in my books. I wish she’d join me in trying to detain Hotaru.”

Tanjiro laughed, slightly awkward. “I’m sure she’s making sure he’s safe and well cared for while he’s out.” The two continued to gossip before one of the other men in the room reminded their chief of his other commitments. “I’ll head out to acquaint myself with the village.” Bowing low, he smiled, “I’ll keep an eye out for Mr. Haganezuka. If I run into Mrs. Haganezuka, is it alright if I associate with her?”

Tecchin brightened up, sitting taller, “Yes! See if you can get her to open up about Hotaru’s whereabouts. Perhaps she’ll tell a young man as handsome as you. I’m sure Hotaru won’t mind, but he’s always been a bit possessive over her.”

Tanjiro’s smile was strained. “Ah, I hope so, too.” Gathering Nezuko’s box, Tanjiro got up to leave, bowing once more at the gentlemen before taking his leave. The hot springs were an overwhelming scent, but if he focused hard, he could almost track his swordsmith’s scent. Patting the box, he whispered to his sister, “Let’s see if we can find Mr. Haganezuka’s wife, I’m really curious what she’s like!”

Hearing Nezuko’s hum of affirmation, he trotted along the small village’s dirt streets. Eyes scanning everyone around him, he huffed slightly. “Everyone’s wearing those clown masks… How am I supposed to- ah!” Perking up, he caught a whiff of Mr. Haganezuka, jogging forward until he found someone in a pretty mask carrying leather goods.

“Ah! Excuse me, are you Mrs. Haganezuka?” Hearing your name, you turned to face him, shoulders straightening as you saw this boy had no mask. He must have been a visitor, how did he know your name? You weren’t a swordsmith, instead you crafted leather accessories for the swords your husband made.

“I am, and you are?” Tanjiro blushed as he forgot his manners, bowing deeply, he introduced himself. However, you interrupted him before he could mention his relationship with Mr. Haganezuka. “Oh! Tanjiro! You’re a client of Hotaru’s, aren’t you?”

The young man before you smiled brightly, and you felt your chest swell with sudden affection. He was too cute! “I am! I was wondering… Have you seen him? The chief mentioned that he’s been missing the last few months, so I can’t help but be worried.”

You stiffened, his earnest expression instead now twisting your heart. You stuttered over your words for a moment before plastering a wide smile on your face - not that he could see it. “Oh gosh, no! Sorry! I wish I could help, I really do! But, well, I don’t actually know where he is at the moment, I’m sorry!”

Waving your hand apologetically, you laughed airly. Tanjiro smiled softly, tilting his head. It didn’t take someone with a discerning nose like him to know you were lying. Well, you hadn’t actually lied, you probably really didn’t know where he was, but you certainly have seen him. Tanjiro breathed a sigh, smile not leaving his lips. “If you see him, could you let him know I’m here? I’d like to apologize for chipping my sword.”

Your hand dropped, reaching into the large bag at your hip. “Of course! I’ll let him know!” You chirped in realization, digging for whatever you were looking for with vigor, “If I see him! You know, because, yeah I-I don’t know where he is!” Laughing nervously, you held out a small item to him. “Silly me! Here’s take this, a gift for Hotaru for not being here!”

Tanjiro accepted the small leather sheath, gasping as he pulled out a knife. “Wow!” Eyes widening further, he shouted in surprise as the blade turned black. “It's a nichirin dagger!”

You brightened, clapping your hands. “I’ve been apprenticing under Hotaru for a few years, but unfortunately this is the only sturdy thing I can make right now. I’m actually a leather worker by trade! I craft hilts and sheaths!”

Tanjiro’s eyes lit up in stars, bowing once more. “That’s amazing! I’ll treasure this! I’ll only use it in emergencies!” You hummed happily, holding your cheeks. Tanjiro placed the dagger in his pocket, bowing for the last time. “Thank you so much, if you don’t mind me asking… Where’s the entrance to the hot springs?”

You laughed, reaching out and petting the top of his head fondly. “I don’t mind at all! Here, let me lead you.” You ignored his blush and how he tried to object, taking his hand and leading him away. “Please, it would be my honor! Maybe later you could introduce me to your little sister!” You eyed the box curiously, “I heard she’s downright adorable, I just have to meet her! And don’t worry, the canopy above the main hot springs is full coverage. Even though it's sunset, no light will get in, so she’ll be safe to soak, too!”

Tanjiro’s heart squeezed in his chest, you were much too kind. He couldn’t believe you were the wife of the man who sent him those threatening ink stained letters. Once the two of you approached the steps, the both of you looked up as the love hashira barreled down towards you, shouting.

You laughed delightedly, shouting your greetings as Tanjiro panicked, rushing up to close her kimono. Smiling as Tanjiro fussed over Mitsuri, you waved and walked away, giggling behind your mask. With a renewed pep in your step, you hummed as you made your way to your shared home on the outskirts of the village, nestled in the woods.

Closing the sliding door behind you, you slipped your shoes off, setting down your bag and stretching tall, groaning loudly. Stepping up onto the clean floors, you made your way to the kitchen. Paying no mind to your surroundings, you didn’t notice as your large husband crept up behind you.

Shouting, you felt strong arms wind around you, pulling you against a sturdy built chest. “H-Hotaru!” His mask clacked against yours as pressed himself to the back of your body, arms tightening.

“I saw you talking with Kamado, what did he have to say?” His voice was gruff, you could hear the agitation in it as you whimpered. His large hand came up to cup your mask, pulling it away from your face and setting it down. He was always so gentle with his works of art, but he didn’t bother the same treatment with you, especially when he saw you talking with other men.

“Hotaru, he’s just a boy, what are you so worked up ab- ah!” He hauled you up over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom. “Hotaru! Let me make us dinner, I haven’t seen you in a couple days!” You slapped his back before realization dawned on you, “W-Were you watching us? Have you been watching me on the days I don’t see you?”

He tossed you to the bed, quickly climbing over you and straddling your legs, hands holding your wrists on his thick thighs. “Hotaru! Stop!” You tried to wiggle, knowing it was futile, especially when he was focused on a specific topic or task.

“What did he say to you?” He leaned forward, bandana and mask keeping his expression from you. Squeezing you with his thighs, he huffed, “I won’t ask again.”

You growled, fed up with the cold welcome from the man you loved, “You’re being jealous! I don’t get a ‘hi’ or a kiss, or a ‘good evening honey, how are-’ ahh!” He tugged your wrists up, body quickly following as you were brought to his chest, his arms winding around you in a tight hug.

You pouted, not wanting to talk about it but knowing you wouldn’t get anything from him if you didn’t - the man was ridiculously stubborn and could hold out much longer than you. He always had his swords to go to when he wasn’t getting his way. “Nothing! He didn’t say anything, just that he was sorry for chipping his sword. Tecchin spoke with him earlier so he knew you were missing.”

You whined a bit, going slack in his arms, “I think he knew I was lying he asked me about you… But he didn’t press it. I gave him that dagger I’d been working on. It turned black just like his blade though, I’m sorry.”

Your husband’s grip relaxed a bit, though he didn’t move from where he was perched on your lap, still keeping you contained. His burly hands came back around and held your cheeks as he sighed heavily. “It’s not your fault. All the blades I’ve made have turned black as well.” Groaning loudly, he set his jaw on the top of your head.

Cautiously, you brought your arms up, slipping his mask off before tugging his bandana away from his head. His hair spilled from where it was tied up in the fabric, cascading over his shoulders in a flowing wave.

Sighing as you tended to him, you spoke up in a small comforting voice. “Hotaru… Do you wanna get up for me and we can make some dinner?” He scoffed, gritting his teeth, his jaw tense where it rested above the crown of your head. Sighing, you pet his thighs. “You'll be less grumpy once you eat, sweetness.”

Pushing your shoulders back, he fixed you with a hard glare. “You know how I feel when you speak with other people.” He gripped your cheeks with both hands, “You’re mine. You know that. Why do I have to keep reminding you?” His perfect lips turned to a sneer, and you recalled how he was only okay with you speaking to a handful of people in the village.

You pouted, your lips squished together and preventing you from speaking. Growling you tried to shake your head to escape his grip, however that had him holding onto you tighter. “You’re mine.”

His voice was as rough as his lips as he crashed his against yours. Whimpering at the force, feeling the impact on your teeth, you tried to wiggle away from him. His hands came up behind you, twisting in your hair and holding you in place. His tongue pushed past your lips, teeth clacking as he ravaged your mouth.

You whimpered, hands pulling his hair as you tried to break free. Even though you were sure it wasn’t because of you, he pulled away, moving only the smallest bit away from your mouth. His burly body blocked everything else from your line of vision, the only thing you could see being him. His eyes bore into yours, gaze intense, and you knew you wouldn’t get away from him unscathed.

You whimpered, his hands pressing you down onto your back as he slipped off you. “Don’t move.” You gave a sharp shout as he tore your kimono open and off of you, easily slipping off your undergarments with deft fingers.

Hotaru’s rough hands pawed over your freshly displayed body, nails scratching you slightly. You whimpered, body jolting with each touch as he moved downwards onto his knees. You tentatively pet his hair, gasping as he grabbed your palms and pressed them to the side of the bed, flat. “What did I just say?”

He didn’t move, staying still as his eyes stared up at you from between your legs. Your mouth was dry as you looked up towards the ceiling. “D-Don’t move.” His grip tightened as he bit your thigh, ignoring as you cried out.

“And what did you do?” Hands leaving yours, he pushed your thighs wide open, admiring your cunt. You whimpered above him, shouting as he bit your other thigh.

“Moved! I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry, ‘Taru, please!” Huffing at your words, he abandoned your hands and instead kept to holding your thighs. At his silence, you shuddered as his breath puffed over your slit. Now that he seemed wholly uninterested in what you were doing or saying, you knew the night was only beginning, his impressive and irritating focus narrowing in on pleasuring you until he had his fill.

Gasping, your hips jerked as his tongue slid up your slit, slow and wet. “Hotaru…” You grabbed at his hair, knowing he was so focused he wouldn’t be paying you anymore attention outside of eating you out.

His hands gripped the fat of your thighs, tongue pushing past your slit and dipping inside your cunt. Your back arched at the feeling, basking in the pleasure for as long as you could. His mouth went to work as his hands groped you, moving up your body and squeezing anywhere he could reach.

Peering above your chest and tummy, you moaned lowly at the sight of him between your legs. His eyes were half lidded, a blush on his cheeks, and showing no indication of looking up at you, entirely enraptured in your sweet cunt. You tossed an arm over your eyes, the other resting in his hair as you wrapped your thighs around his head.

Sighing, you let him lick you, drooling over your already wet cunt. “Hotaru~” You felt him press his face closer against you, tongue shoved deep inside you. Arching your back, you pulled his hair, the man staying silent as he moved upwards to suck your clit.

“Ahh!” You shuddered at the feeling, moaning and crying out as his hands shifted to your hips. Gripping you tightly, you moaned at the rough treatment. He lifted you up higher, hands moving to cup your ass while his eyes slid shut. He pawed at your skin, squishing it in his palms as he sucked your clit tight into his hot wet mouth.

Writhing on the bed, you pulled his hair, letting your legs fall open, thighs resting on his broad shoulders. “Ahh~ So good~” You pet his hair as he slipped his tongue back into your cunt, licking you hotly. You rocked your hips in his grip, grateful he wasn’t holding you down this time.

Moving his head, you felt his tongue slip deeper inside, his own rough moans muffled by your plush skin. You whimpered loudly, head falling back as you felt him move one of his hands from your ass. You swallowed tightly, anticipation rattling your lungs as you felt him slowly curve it around your thighs to settle between your legs, just under his mouth.

You whined as one rough finger slipped inside you, the size of his digits easily outmatching your own. “Please, Hotaru~” He delicately pet inside of you, reacquainting himself with your body. You rolled your hips against his face, whining once more as he ignored you, steadying his hand and stroking you with one digit.

His tongue soon left you, moving up to your clit as he sucked once more, feeling your swollen bundle against his tongue, his finger soft inside you. You cried out, bucking your hips as you pulled his hair, his mouth not stopping as he sighed against you, eyes closed and tongue licking you rapidly.

“H-Hotaru! Ahh- fuck! Please!” You arched your back, dragging him so close to you that his nose was pressed against your mound. “‘M gonna cum! Haah~ Ah!” Your breath stuttered from your lungs, writhing against the soft comforter as your husband stayed on his knees, unbothered by your reactions.

You gasped for air as he continued, thighs quaking and sporadically squeezing his head before falling back open. He kept his hand firmly cupping your ass while the other slipped another finger inside your tightening cunt.

Sighing hotly, your hands loosened in his mane, petting flyaways from his sweaty forehead, laughing breathlessly as his eyes were still closed. “Hotaru… It’s not fair when I can’t l-look at your handsome face…” Your words trailed off, soft sharp moans falling past your lips as he built his speed back up.

Whimpering, you tried to push him away, knowing full well you couldn’t. “W-Wait, Hotaru, please!” He moaned gruffly against you, and you were sure his cock was aching and hard in his pants. “Please, Hotaru, I want you inside me! I know yo-ahh! K-Know you want it, too-” You covered your mouth with your hand, crying out as he curled his fingers inside you.

You had no idea to what end he would stop, it wasn’t uncommon for him to become so hyper fixated and focused on making love to you, whether that be with his mouth or cock. You knew he wouldn’t stop until he was done, and it didn’t matter if you were conscious when that time came. After much practice together, your beloved husband blossomed into quite the lover, but as with his sword making passion, he tended to allow himself to slip into a specific sort of headspace.

You writhed, legs kicking behind his head as you pulled your hands back up to yourself. Holding and fondling your chest, you cried out, his hand moving faster. “‘Taru! Fuck!” Panting hard, you felt him let go of your clit, catching his breath as his fingers tapped at your gspot. You arched again, body bending and back popping at the stretch.

He leaned back, admiring your reactions and how you squeezed and pulled at your breasts. Licking his lips, he watched your cunt flutter around his fingers, pulling back before thrusting them into you, the rough pace making your upper body curl. Your hands moved to fist the blanket instead, gasping and panting for air as your climax approached.

Growling, he dragged his hand from where it was squeezing your ass, pushing one of your thighs off his shoulder so he could nibble and suck marks into your plush skin. Crying out, he felt you tighten on his fingers, but it wasn’t enough to stop his fast pace. Moaning as he bit down, his hazy eyes watched as you arched high, hands blindly seeking and finding his long, wild hair.

“Ah-!” He winced as you pulled hard, eyes never leaving your face as you finished hard a second time. Leaving your bitten thigh, he pulled his hand back, spreading your legs so wide the brief thought of you splitting apart echoed in your blissfully empty head.

Moaning loudly and wantonly, you felt him replace his digits with his tongue, pushing past your plump cunt to lick inside you. His nails bit into your skin as you moved to twist his hair around your fists. “Hotaru!” You babbled incoherently, moaning as his wet fingers curled up to rub your clit fast and hard. “Ahh!” You curled forward screeching as he overstimulated you.

You could handle it when he cooled down a bit, giving you a slight break between orgasms, but you knew if he kept it up, you’d be passing out sooner rather than later. You were always a little sleepy after one climax, him getting you off repeatedly back to back was just mean.

Thighs quivering, he basked in your noises, surrounding himself with your perfect body, the taste of your cum making him strain in his now painfully too tight pants. Breaking away from your cunt, he panted heavily, fingers pinching your clit as he nibbled your plump slit. Crying out above him, he could barely make out how your upper body writhed for him.

Catching his breath, he dove back in, mouthing over your throbbing clit and three digits pounding your sweet spot. You screamed aloud, trying to scoot away from him, pushing him away and kicking your legs. “No! Stop! ‘Taru!” He had you on the brink, he could feel how tight you were wrapped around his fingers, knew you were at your limit.

It had been days since he’d last seen you, since he’d last touched you. He knew you were busy with your own jobs as well, coming home to an empty bed with no energy to touch yourself. He had to make up for lost times. It was a mantra in his head, to make sure you felt amazing before he even had a chance to feel good himself.

Moaning around your clit as it was snug inside his drooling mouth, his eyes flicked up to you. You laid there in bed, palms over your face as you gasped and shouted. As he laved his tongue over you, teeth pressing against your burning skin, he rubbed his calloused fingertips over your gspot, switching between pressing and rubbing hard to pounding them with quick movements of his wrist.

Finally, your head fell back, screaming as your voice cracked, finishing hard and bucking your hips against his jaw. He quickly abandoned your clit as he felt hot cum flood down his digits and into his palm. You cried out weakly as he voraciously ate you out, tongue pressing inside your cunt and fucking you.

Gasping and whimpering, your hips jolted as he licked up all your cum, dragging his tongue up your slit before flicking your swollen clit. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, his mouth moved away from you, letting your legs rest against the end of the western style bed. He sat back on his heels, licking his hand clean as he watched you closely.

Muscles rippling beneath his clothes, he hovered above you, kneeling between your legs as his intense gaze watched your face. Blinking slowly, your dazed bleary gaze found his face, muddled from your airy state of mind. Breathing heavily, you managed a small weak, “‘Taru?”

Sighing above you, he kissed your forehead. Letting your eyes close, you felt him slip off the bed and pull you up into his arms. Maneuvering with you in his grip, he turned down the sheets, sliding you inside them. You hummed, comfortable amongst the soft sheet and plush pillows. Feeling yourself drift off, you registered faintly of your husband crawling in with you.

You tried to call out to him, but your throat was tired and dry. Cracking your eyes open, you moved your lips, about to call out to him before he got comfortable, but instead cried out loudly as you felt his thick cock fill you in one thrust. “Hotaru!”

You heard him groan above you, the tight fit rattling his spine. You cried out as he lifted your legs, hips quickly pistoning inside of you. Sobbing incoherently, you clawed at his chest as he hovered above you. “I- Stop!” His cock split you open, the messy sounds echoing around you as your husky voice called out to him.

Blinking rapidly, you tried to focus on his face, whimpering as his eyes bore into you, sweat dripping from his tense visage down onto you. He was quiet the entire time, not speaking as he fucked you roughly. Groaning and panting, he was otherwise silent as he focused entirely on your expression.

Writhing beneath him, you gripped his wrists as he held your hips still, his own crashing into yours roughly. “I can’t! S’too much!” You tossed your head to the side, brows pinched as he filled you up just to pull nearly out, filling you once more.

Your husband grunted above you, shuddering at your words. With a sharp gasp, his thrusts faltered, moans stifled as he rubbed your overstimulated and sore clit. You slapped his chest, tears at the corners of your eyes, “It hurts! Stop it, stop!”

However, Hotaru paid you no mind, panting as his climax washed over him, hips bucking without rhythm as you felt him pump his cum inside you. Dragging your nails down his chest once more and shaking your head, tears slipping down into your hairline. “No more! Please, ‘Taru!”

His gaze was focused as he met your own, but you whimpered, body quaking as you didn’t see any recognition in his intense stare. Instead, his eyes drifted down your body, large palm pressing into your belly. You choked out a moan as he moved his hips subtly, cock stroking your gspot as he pressed down harder.

You could see the edges of your vision turn fuzzy as he began to pump his hips again, the pace just as face and brutal. Gasping, you coughed roughly, hands pulling at his weakly, whimpering and crying out. As he pounded you, feeling your breasts bounce, your sudden climax had you shrieking before your field of vision went cloudy and you passed out.

Hotaru watched you from his position above you, admiring your blissed out expression as he made love to you. Licking his lips, he moaned as you finished around him, cunt once again tightening like a vice, squeezing him tighter than you had all night. Moaning loud and sharp, he winced while his hips continued their pace.

Panting heavily, his drool dripped down to your chest, your eyes closed and face no longer pinched. Gritting his teeth, he bowed his head forward, hips jerking roughly. After his intense orgasm before, he couldn’t deny that the overstimulation was beginning to hurt him as well. Grabbing your legs, he pressed them to his chest. Anchoring his heels in the soft bed, he pressed you tighter up against yourself.

Now that you were unconscious, it was easier to fold your body how he wanted to. Gritting his teeth, he felt himself reach deeper inside of you. “Ahh! Fuck!” Eyes closing, his face tensed as his body slowly began to as well. Panting desperately for air, he felt himself shudder as he finished once more, filling you with more hot cum.

Hands fell from your legs to either side of your head, sweat and drool dripping from him down to you as you remained blissfully unaware of how his cock throbbed and pulsed inside your hot cunt. His body quaked with aftershocks and pumped a bit more cum deep inside you.

Fisting his hands into the pillow on either side of your face, he groaned. His energy was spent, having already been exhausted from his training out in the forest surrounding the village. He wanted to keep going, not quite satisfied with his work, but having to admit he was as spent as you were.

With his last coherent train of thought, he moved your legs and slid out from between them. Collapsing next to you, he pulled you so your back was flush against his chest. Using his legs, he dragged the blankets up closer, tossing off the top comforter, and draping the two of you in the soft thin sheet.

Catching his breath, he littered your shoulders with kisses and bites, not caring if they would be visible above your kimono in the morning. Everyone in the village knew you belonged to him and him alone, so it wouldn’t matter if you were marked up. Sighing tiredly, his hands drifted over your body, scratching you with his nails before cupping your breasts.

Feeling sleep overtake him, he squeezed you before allowing himself to pass out.

All too soon, however, his eyes were cracking open once more, groaning as the sun shone through the window. You were still sleeping soundly next to him, face buried in the pillows and back rising with each deep breath.

Stretching tall, Hotaru felt his joints pop and crack. He didn’t like to stay too long after sunrise, preferring to train when the morning was still cool. Sitting up, he winced at the dull ache in his hips. He rolled his shoulders, swinging his thick legs over the side of the bed, moving to get up before your smaller hand grabbed his wrist.

Humming in thought, he turned, looking for your eyes under your mess of hair as it was splayed out on the pillow. “‘Taru…” Your grip was weak considering you were barely awake, and it would have been child’s play to break away from you. However, your enormous husband smiled softly, turning and crawling back into bed to cuddle you into his strong arms.

You hummed happily, eyes closing once more as you settled in his grip. His voice was husky as he whispered in your ear, delighting in how you shuddered, “Good morning. How are you feeling?” You laughed softly, the sound barely passing your lips.

“Sore. Wonder why that is? Don’t think I’ll-” Yawning widely, you rolled your shoulders, “Don’t think I’ll be able to walk very well this morning.” You blinked blearily at him, a soft smile on your tired face.

He couldn’t help but lick his lips, grinning smugly. “You’re lucky I let you leave the house at all.” His hand drifted down, grabbing your ass roughly, smirking as you moaned and hid your face in his chest. “You’re mine. Nobody should ever get to see you again. The only forge you have any business being in is mine.”

You laughed softly, kissing his chest where you could reach him, “You’re not even in your own forge nowadays, Hotaru. I get lonely without having you.” He scoffed at your words, grumbling under his breath.

You squealed as he squeezed you tight. “Don’t care. Don’t let me see you getting too friendly with anyone else while I’m gone, understand me?” His gaze was on you now, pulling you back from his chest.

You sighed lovingly as you took in his face with the morning sunlight. “You’re so handsome, I love you.” He crinkled his nose, watching as his words went in one side and out the other. Sighing at your helpless nature, he pulled you into his lap before sitting up.

“We can make it to the hot springs and back before it's time to make a proper breakfast.” You whined in his grip as he stood up, placing you in a nearby chair as he found some clothes for the both of you. Tying you up in a loose kimono, he grabbed another larger one for himself, tying it closed and moving to lift you up once more.

You giggled happily in his arms, still veiled in a thin shroud of sleep. “You wore me out last night… I’m not sure I remember half of it.” Hotaru grunted, grabbing his mask before walking to the entryway and grabbing yours as well.

Slipping on his sandals, he hefted you up higher in his arms, “You passed out.” You were speechless for a moment, staring at him from under your sunny mask, before laughing quietly to yourself.

“You’re horrible! Tecchin was right, you’re a handful!” Hotaru snorted under his mask, holding you closer to his chest. You listened to his heartbeat as well as his deep voice as he spoke up once more.

“Please, you’re just as much of a handful. We’re a perfect match for each other, no one else could handle us.” You laughed again, waking up as the sun filtered through the trees as he carried you to the hot springs.

Leaning up, you tapped his cheek with your mask then his ear over his bandana in a makeshift kiss. “You’re right… I’d be a mess without you, you know.” Resting your cheek on his chest once more, the two of you basked in the morning sunlight together.

Wiggling your nose, you looked away as you got closer to the hot springs. “Gross.” You felt your husband’s shoulders shake slightly, silent laughter at your childish tone. “Oh well, at least I get to soak with you!”

You nuzzled his neck, rubbing his chest as he crested the steps to show a large pool of steaming water. You wiggled in his grasp, hearing his laugh softly as he put you down before scrambling to pick you back up as your legs gave out. You slapped his chest as his arms wound around your waist, pulling you snug and tight against him once more.

“You did this! This is your fault!” You slipped your mask up to rest atop your head, smiling fondly at your beloved. Once yours was secured, you moved to tug his off along with his bandana.

Hotaru pouted at you before smiling softly and kissing you gently. Sitting you on the edge of the spring, he easily stripped you of your kimono before stripping himself down as well. Wading into the spring, he bundled you back into his arms and sat the two of you against the inner wall.

Sighing contentedly, you apologetically pet the red scratches on his chest. “Sorry…” You smiled up at him softly before kissing them, noticing how some had dried blood on them. “I should trim my nails down a little, I think…”

He grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles before relaxing back, stretching his legs out. “Don’t worry about it, I was the one who pushed you last night.” You smiled, relaxing against him, mischievous eyes looking up at him.

“And yet you’re not apologizing.” Your husband scoffed, not bothering to look down at you, opting to squeeze you tightly instead before loosening his grip just as quick.

“Because I’m not sorry. You’re my wife, I’ll take you however I please whenever I want.” You balked at his steady words, his tone final.

“Hotaru Haganezuka! You’re bad!” You bit his chest before blowing a loud raspberry against him. He laughed loudly, moving so that he could kiss your forehead. You slapped him lightly, shaking your head but basking in his laughter. “What on earth am I going to do with you?”

He hummed, relaxing back against the spring’s wall again. “Stay with me. Forever.” His suddenly sincere tone had your chest welling up in affection and adoration. Sighing softly, you rested back against him, smiling.

“Of course. Always.” Hotaru pet your hair, relaxing in the early morning rays in the deserted hot spring with you in his arms. Thoughts of work began creeping into his head, but he pushed them off, wanting to spend just a little more time with you in sweet intimacy.

[txttletale]

You've helped expose me to a lot of theory that I hadn't read before, and I'm realizing i need to read more theory for real, like. Actually. That being said; The more I start to lean into communist thoughts and not just anti capitalist, I find myself becoming warped and joyless. How does it not take a tole on you? The constant reminder of the endless suffering of the oppressed? How do I enjoy art when I am forced to see all of it as a coerced product, suffering for my entertainment? The constant guilt of life is something I dont think I can stomach at all times. Am i supposed too? (BTW; I mean this more so as an ask of how you do it, not to argue that because suffering is hard to look at we should actually just go back to the status quo and ignore it. I'm just like. Not sure how to deal with it, I guess.)

i don't really feel guilty about anything so i don't know how much i can help. i guess i just think that using communism as like a lense to judge your own individual morality as many people like to do is bound to make you miserable to no real avail. that's not the purpose of communist theory, the point of communist theory is to analyze society and history and guide mass-scale poltical action, not tell you if you're evil for watching the new star wars or whatevsies.

i guess i also personally find that reading socialist history and the more practical, grounded-in-praxis types of theory is liberatory and fills me with optimisim--reading about, e.g., social systems in cuba or people's democracy in the early soviet union is helpful in dispelling the 'oh, everything's going to be horrible forever, socialism is just a utopian pipe dream' insinct that i think liberal hegemony instills in most people, by showing how people took actual sensible pragmatic steps to introduce things like workplace democracy, universal healthcare, women's equality, mass literacy, etc. post-revolution. it helps you understand that communism is not a magic wizard who will come and save us all but yknow something that is doable and achievable by human beings.

[moni-logues]

Across a Crowded Room

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Strangers-to-lovers, idolverse, smut

Word count: 10.7k

Summary: Dissatisfied and uncomfortable at a party where you don’t belong, in a country where you feel like you don’t belong, you see a man looking at you from across the room. Maybe he’s what you’ve been missing.

Content: alcohol consumption, fingering, oral (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, I guess slight exhibitionism since it all happens up against a window lmao

A/N: Ok, so I 1000000% thought I had re-posted this here already?? but Lia has informed me that I have not and since I got a nice message about it on the old blog, I figured now's as good a time as any to repost!! The start of this fic is literally the first writing I had done for over a decade. I started writing even before I had a writing blog. Then the rest of it was written... last November? ish? idk. anyway, I read this myself the other day and it's alright! ETA: LOL, you can tell it's old because it's written in present tense LMAO

* * *

You tug self-consciously at the hem of your dress; it’s a little too short for your liking, but Hanjae likes you in K-style clothes and, once you’re there, it’ll be fine. It’s always a little nerve-wracking the thought of going to a party where you hardly know anyone, but it always turns out fine. Fun, even. Positive thinking. You sigh and inhale deeply before leaving your apartment and heading down to the car he’s sent for you.

When you first met, you were both taken with each other. He was intrigued by your foreignness and enchanted by your clumsy negotiations in a foreign culture; you were reassured by his confidence and excited by the access he had to hitherto hidden worlds of luxury and indulgence. He wasn’t rolling with Elon Musk or anything (and you’d have had nothing to do with him if he were), but he lived with an ease and security that you yearned for. Which, you suppose, is why you’re still letting him parade you around at parties like this.

It was fun at first. You liked the attention – who wouldn’t? Instead of feeling freakish and out of place, you felt interesting and cherished for your differences. You felt like they were laughing with you when you told funny, embarrassing stories of when you’d got it wrong, or how you do things back home. It felt like people were fascinated by you and you were warmed by their curiosity. You didn’t mind when they reached out to touch your tattoos or asked personal questions, because they didn’t mean any harm. Hanjae gave you a social life that you hadn’t quite managed to create for yourself in this new place and got you out of your apartment, out of your comfort zone, and you clung to that.

Recently, though, you’ve been feeling different. When you show up to parties with him and see his friends you’ve met before, they’re surprised you’re still around. They joke to your face that they would’ve expected Hanjae to have moved on by now. They ask what his parents think (but you have never been introduced to them). They’re not so charmed by you anymore. These friends barely spare you a second thought once they’ve registered their surprise and the attentions of new friends aren’t as welcome as they once were. You started feeling uncomfortable with the way Hanjae paraded you around a couple of weeks ago and now, you’re frankly sick to your stomach. When people reach out to touch you, you flinch away; you don’t tell funny, embarrassing stories because you feel like you’re being laughed at; you stay quiet, for the most part, because your Korean is still not very good and, when they correct you or laugh at your mistakes, you don’t feel like they’re doing it kindly. Standing, mute, next to Hanjae while he laughs and drinks makes you feel like an object, a trophy, an oddity. If Hanjae were a Victorian-era Englishman travelling to the ends of the Earth to ransack a foreign place and bring home stolen goods, you were the buried necklace of an Aztec noblewoman he would give to the eligible girl in the manor house whose hand he is trying to win. He is showing you off because other people are impressed, but you no longer get the feeling that he is.

You hand over your phone and lip balm to Hanjae when you meet him outside the venue; this became a habit early on, so you wouldn’t have to hold a bag and he was happy to keep them in his pockets. Now, it feels a little bit like handing over your freedom.

“Cheer up!” he says as you lean back in your seat. “This’ll be fun, won’t it?” He smiles at you and tucks your hair behind your ear. He’s not a bad guy. He really isn’t. You’re not entirely sure if he even realises what he’s doing with you, if he knows that he doesn’t really like you but the idea of you, if he knows that there’s no future with you, if he’s realised that this relationship is rapidly approaching its expiry date. He’s been extremely good to you and you owe it to him to try. However much you want it to end, you don’t want it to end badly and you don’t want to hurt him; there’s no need for that.

You walk into the party amongst a sea of black suits. You scan the crowd, looking for other women you can compare your outfit to. A terrible thing to do, you know, but your insecurity needs reassurance that you’re dressed appropriately for this event. Hanjae is already leading you over to his friends, two of whom have brought their girlfriends, who are dressed in outfits similar to yours, so that’s something at least. You greet them brightly and Hanjae hands you a drink before launching into a conversation you can’t quite follow. That’s the other thing about these parties; they’re so loud, even if everyone were speaking English, you’re not sure you’d be able to hear them properly, so you hardly stand a chance in Korean. You’ve improved dramatically and can get by in your day-to-day life, but you don’t feel like you’re good enough yet to have a proper conversation, to really talk to anyone. It’s quite a lonely feeling and another reason you’ve spent so much time with Hanjae: he speaks fluent English; although he uses it less and less often these days and he gets more impatient when you need things repeating. You suppose it must be difficult for him, too, having to use a second language so much.

You gaze around the room, looking at nothing in particular. You sip your drink and wonder what everyone else is thinking about. You barely notice the looks you get anymore – most of them are meaningless anyway and people pass their eyes over you before turning back to their friends – but out of the corner of your eye, you see someone looking at you. You don’t recognise him, but you’ve never been very good with faces and the lighting is weird here. You raise your glass and nod slightly; even if you don’t know him, it’s nice to be polite. He looks a little flustered that you’ve noticed and quickly looks away, and then back again and raises his glass a little before turning and walking away. You smile, what a cutie.

*

Your glass is empty and your feet hurt from standing still for so long, so you tell Hanjae you’re going to get another drink. He asks you to get him a whiskey, so you traipse to the bar and order. You hand the drink to Hanjae without a word and wander off; there must be somewhere to sit in this place.

The main room is cavernous and you’re worried there will be no open doors to anywhere else. There is a small group of tables in one corner, but they are all already occupied. You look around as you walk, and suddenly bump into someone.

“Oh, so-“, you start to say, but you realise it isn’t someone; it is a mirror. The whole back wall is mirrored. For a moment, you are completely disoriented and slightly embarrassed, but as you edge along the mirror, you realise that the wall doesn’t reach the other side and the room continues beyond it. As you cross behind the mirror, the din of music and voices is subdued significantly. There’s another partial wall from the other side as though the room is zig-zagging. You’re wary of going too far, but the increasing quiet is soothing. You turn another corner and there’s a bench opposite a large staircase. You immediately sit down along its length and lift your feet. You wonder what the time is and how much more of it you’ll have to kill before you can go home. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, reminding yourself that Hanjae is a good man and you are very fortunate and suffering from very glamorous problems. A few months ago, you’d have given an arm and a leg to be at a party like this. Be careful what you wish for, you think to yourself.

As you fidget on the bench, you realise you are not alone. There is a man coming down the stairs. You take your feet off the bench and try to look like you’re doing something (what? What could you be doing? There is absolutely nothing to occupy you here!); you settle for just looking awkward. You nod your head and raise a hand as he reaches the bottom.

“Are you ok?” he asks. His hesitance reminds you of someone and you realise with a flash that he is the man who was looking at you earlier.

You clear your throat.

“네. 괜찮아요. 감사합니다,” you answer falteringly, embarrassed at having been caught hiding out. You rise to leave.

“오, 정말요? ……………?”

You don’t understand the second half of what he said and you curse yourself for having answered in Korean; if you’d just spoken English and pretended you didn’t know any Korean at all, this would’ve been much simpler!

“Sorry, I didn’t understand,” you tell him. “갈게요.”

“No, wait,” he cries, with more force than he intended. “You don’t have to leave.” He gestures to the bench. “I was also looking for somewhere quiet.”

He speaks shyly and you assume he doesn’t have much practice at speaking English and don’t have the energy for locking you both into a conversation where neither of you can quite understand the other. On the other hand, it would feel rude to just walk away now. You stand, not leaving but not quite staying, both of you trapped in an awkward moment that seems to last forever.

“You can leave if you want,” he says, finally. “I am going to stay.” He sits on the bottom step and takes a sip from his drink. “It’s ok, we don’t have to talk- but I can speak English a little bit if you want.”

You slowly return to the bench and sit down. You feel like you should say something, but your mind is blank. It’s like you’ve never had a conversation before in your life; what do people say? Does he even want you to say something? Why was he staring at you earlier? In the same way that everyone else always does or was there a specific reason? You feel your hands start to sweat and you inwardly roll your eyes at yourself and tell yourself to get a grip, literally nothing is happening.

He is looking out of the window and you are staring into the corner on the opposite side; you each take glances at one another, praying the other doesn’t notice. You can still hear the music from the party, quiet in the background, and you wonder if Hanjae has noticed your absence yet; you expect not. You glance at the man opposite you and catch his eye. You both chuckle awkwardly.

“I’m ________,” you say.

“Jungkook,” he answers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“I saw you earlier; I didn’t think we’d met before.”

“No, I’m not really invited to these things,” you explain. “I just tag along with my b-,“ you stop, the word ‘boyfriend’ weighing heavily on your tongue.

“Who’s your boyfriend?”

Dammit.

“Uh, Kim Hanjae?”

“Ah… Don’t know him.”

“He’s…” How on earth did you get to this subject so quickly? Do you really want to talk about Hanjae to this random man? More to the point, does this random man want to hear about your boyfriend and how you actually don’t want him to be your boyfriend anymore? Doubtful. “He’s nice,” you finish, lamely.

“Just don’t like parties?”

Part of you wishes you had just left when you had the chance. Then you realise how ridiculously you’re behaving; hating the party because no one will talk to you and, now, as soon as someone starts, you want to leave. ‘Get a grip, girl,’ you say to yourself.

“I like parties,” you answer, “but it’s-… I’m-… This-…” You pause as you try to work out how to give an honest answer that isn’t simultaneously dumping all your crap onto him. “These are all his friends; I don’t really know anyone here.”

He nods.

“I have a different problem: everyone knows me and wants to talk to me all the time.” He laughs. “I don’t like big parties. They’re… so much… too much.”

You nod. The two of you lapse into silence again, but it’s more comfortable this time. You’ve broken the ice a little. He seems nice and you feel a pang of sympathy for him: to be a big deal at parties like this sounds exhausting, especially if you don’t even like parties to start with. No wonder he’s hiding out with you.

“It’s hard for me to talk to people at these things,” you tell him. “My Korean isn’t very good and Hanjae doesn’t like speaking English when we’re with his friends because some of them don’t speak it.”

“I think your Korean sounds good.”

You laugh; that was a sweet thing to say given that he’s heard you say all of three words.

“It’s ok, but we couldn’t have this conversation in Korean. Sorry.” You smile weakly and feel pathetic; you knew it would be a process, moving to a new country and learning the language as you go, but you weren’t prepared for how embarrassed and ashamed you would feel all the time about your failings.

“Don’t be sorry!” He grins at you. “I can try my English! But, actually, it is not very good either. Sorry.”

You laugh again. Koreans and their modesty; his English sounds just fine from where you’re sitting.

“Did you move here recently?” he asks.

“About four months ago,” you answer. “I was… looking for something new, I guess. I don’t know… I needed new horizons, new experiences.”

“And how do you think about it now you’re here?”

You wonder if he knows what a loaded question that is. You exhale with a huff. Where to begin?

“It’s been harder than I thought it would be,” you tell him. “I feel very… different. Being looked at so much is not something I was used to… I think Hanjae likes it, but it’s awkward for me. I feel like…”

“An object.”

Your eyes meet and your chest is flooded with the warmth of familiarity. He’ll understand, won’t he?

“When we met,” you start, looking away self-consciously, “he was charmed by my foreignness, y’know? And he liked how different I looked and found it cute when I made mistakes in Korean and didn’t know things. It gave him clout, y’know? Dating a foreigner? I was spoilt by it, the attention; I thought it was for me and when he bought me dresses and took me to parties to show me off, I thought it was because I was special, not just because I was foreign. I loved it at the start.

“I think the appeal is wearing off, though,” you continue, stealing a quick glance to gauge his reaction. He’s looking at you patiently, intently, concentrating, probably, on understanding what you’re saying. “He gets annoyed sometimes now when I don’t know things and-“

You tell him everything. Once you start, you find you can’t stop. You don’t know whether to be angry or sad about it, so you vacillate between the two. Jungkook listens, never interrupts; he drinks and nods and keeps looking at you with those huge brown eyes.

“I know it’s over,” you say, resolute. “I just-” you realise it as you say it, “I’m scared that I won’t have anything if I don’t have him.”

He looks at you thoughtfully for a moment.

“But you met him in Korea, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you still have the person who moved all the way here to start a new life; that seems like a lot to me.”

For a split second, you don’t know whether to burst into tears or fling your arms around him and give him a kiss. ‘Is he looking at me,’ you wonder ‘or staring into my soul?’. You feel seen, seen for the first time in months. You decide then and there that you would walk on hot coals for this man; he’s got you whether he wants you or not. His kindness streams out from him like rays of the sun from behind clouds. Such a bright, young thing, hiding in the dark.

“What about you?” You ask. “You’re hiding back here, too.”

“Ah.” He finishes his drink and places the glass next to him on the step. “I prefer quiet places. I like to keep things small and…-”

“Intimate?”

You blush furiously as he looks at you. That isn’t what you meant and you’re not sure how he’s taken it.

“Yeah, intimate. Big crowds are not my thing.”

“Not when they forget that you’re a person, first.”

He nods.

You stand and move to look out of the window, closer to him. He rises, too, and stands next to you. Your arm is a hair’s breadth from him; you daren’t move.

“Do you like the view?” he asks.

“Actually, I don’t really like a cityscape. I prefer country views.”

“What are the views like where you’re from?”

No one has asked you about home like that. They ask for funny differences between here and there or ask you to debunk or confirm stereotypes, but no one has really cared what you actually think. You smile, picturing in your mind’s eye cloudy, wind-swept beaches, rolling hills, pier arcades, church spires and so much green. You tell him everything. You turn your back to Seoul and, leaning against the glass, describe the house you grew up in and where your grandparents used to live; you describe the places you took holidays when you were a kid and the specific smell of the sea that isn’t the same anywhere else in the world. He’s been to your home country before, but he hasn’t been to your hometown; he asks questions and shows interest and you realise how starving you’ve been. Starved of this sort of attention – focused, interested, penetrating. You’ve had a taste and you want more and more.

You ask him about Seoul; did he grow up here? No, he tells you about Busan in the South. He speaks slowly and thoughtfully about his childhood and his dreams and moving here at such a young age, growing up so far from everything he’s ever known. He’s achieved more than he ever thought was even possible, more than he had ever dreamed, he explains; sometimes he still can’t believe it’s real.

While he talks, you study his face. He’s happy now, but you feel for the scared, little boy thrust into the industry machine before he even knew who he was. Now’s not the time, you know that, but you want to gently crack him open like a soft-boiled egg. Such depth in his eyes, so much soul. You resist the urge many times to put your hand on his arm, hold his hand for a second, reach out and physically touch him somehow. You feel connected to him in such a way that you need it to be physical for a moment, to close the circle, to just… touch.

You’re still standing by the window, deep in conversation, when a man appears from behind the wall and beckons to Jungkook. They talk quickly and Jungkook returns.

“I’m going to get a drink.”

Your heart falls.

“Do you want one?”

A wash of relief. You shrug, sure.

“Ok, wait here. I won’t be long.”

He leaves and you turn back to the window, pressing your forehead against the cool glass. You wonder what time it is, where is Hanjae, what’s he doing, is he even still here, has he noticed you’re missing, is Jungkook actually coming back? You take some deep breaths.

With no watch, no phone, and no clock in this dark, little hideaway, you have no way to tell how long Jungkook has been. One minute? Could be ten. You wonder if he’ll make it back to you; after all, he was hiding back here to avoid being grasped in the clutches of all the many, many people out there. Maybe he’s been waylaid. He’s got stuck with a chatterbox who won’t be quiet; he’s got trapped into a business conversation that he can’t leave. Maye he’s seen some friends and is having fun out there.

You sigh, knowing that if he doesn’t come back soon, you’ll have to go out there, too. Hanjae will be missing you, you tell yourself; it’s rude to abandon him completely when he’s the reason you’re even here in the first place. You take a deep, resolute breath and stand, smoothing out your dress. You bump into Jungkook as you round the corner.

“Oh,” he says as he sees you. “Are you going?”

He hands you a drink and you take it, the cold glass sending goosebumps up your arm.

“Uh, well, no, well yes, I was but I didn’t know if you were coming back.” You hope you didn’t sound accusatory.

“I’m sorry, it is hard to avoid people out there,” he replies, continuing around the corner and sitting on the bench. You follow him and he places a hand on the bench, indicating you should join. You feel bad; he shouldn’t have to apologise. You sit next to him on the bench and sip your drink.

“You can go back out there, if you want, you know; you don’t have to stay here with me,” you tell him. His eyes widen and he shakes his head.

“No, thank you!” he laughs. “That was enough. Maybe I will show my face again a bit later.”

“Good.” You spoke without thinking and are just about to regret it when he smiles at you.

“Yeah. Good.”

You place a hand down on the bench and he reaches out a finger to touch your bracelet. When you packed your whole life into one suitcase, a lot of brutal cuts had to be made and there are so many parts of your heart at home, abandoned by you, but not this one. It’s a tiny gold chain, with a tiny gold J attached.

“That’s not the letter of your name,” Jungkook says, still studying your bracelet.

“No… No, it’s from my best friend’s name,” you explain. “She gave this to me a long time ago; I like to wear it when I feel like I need her, to feel like I’ve got a little bit of her with me.” You rub your wrist, self-consciously, and wonder what she’s up to right now.

“Does it help?”

“No, not really.” You laugh, a little sad. “It reminds me that there are people in the world who love me, which is nice, but it also reminds me that those people are thousands of miles away.”

“All of them?” His penetrating eyes beam at you and you feel like no matter what answer you give, it’ll be the wrong one. You shrug.

“I thought maybe you told me a fake name before,” he admits, grinning sheepishly.

“Oh, I don’t think that would’ve ever occurred to me! Why, do you do that?”

He nods. He smiles but it’s sad, the mirth not reaching his eyes.

“Sometimes. But I wouldn’t get away with it so easily if I wore one of those, right?”

You unclasp the bracelet’s fastening and it slips off your wrist and, taking an end in each hand, hold it out to him. He looks uncertainly at you and you nod. He offers his wrist and you fix the chain in place.

“There’s no getting away from who you really are,” you tell him, knowing full well that it doesn’t matter where you go, ’cause there you’ll always be. He grins. “For tonight.”

“For tonight, I can be your best friend?”

You laugh and nod, thinking, ‘god, can he be my best friend forever?’.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, gently moving the bracelet around his wrist; you wonder what he’s thinking and take a sip of your drink.

A few minutes pass in a comfortable silence until Jungkook speaks again.

“I don’t have anything to give you.”

“What?”

“In return.” He indicates the bracelet. “I don’t have anything I can give you.” He takes off a ring and considers it. “I think they will all be too big.” He holds it out and you offer up your hand; he slips it onto your index finger and you lift your hand up, swirling the ring around so that it very nearly flies off the tip.

“Too big,” you confirm with a grin.

He pulls his sleeve up to reveal a watch and you notice the tattoos running underneath.

“I think this will not go with your dress, right?”

You nod absently, trying to make out what you’re looking at. You take the edge of his sleeve and lift it a little higher to get a better look and then become aware of what you’re doing and drop it, apologising instantly.

“That’s ok,” he says and he undoes the cuff, rolling the sleeve up to his elbow. He turns his arm slowly so you can get a good look (or as good a look as you can manage in the dark light). You nod approvingly.

“That’s why I was looking at you earlier,” he says, a little embarrassed. “I was trying to look at your tattoo.”

Well, that explains the intensity of his focus earlier. You turn so that he can see. You feel, for a second, his hand above your skin and your stomach clenches, praying he won’t touch you like everyone else does: ‘just please don’t let him touch me; please, please don’t let him touch me’. But the touch never comes. You sense his hand moving across your back and down your arm and you twist your head to see his finger, an inch above the skin, tracing the lines of your tattoo. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What do you think?” You ask, turning your body back towards him.

“They’re very beautiful.” He looks you straight in the eyes as he answers and you’re struck again by the feeling of being seen and not merely looked at. Neither of you looks away this time. You hold the moment between yourselves, pausing time just for a second. You break the connection and look down, tracing a finger over your bracelet on his wrist. You know it’s only a coincidence that they share the same initial – it’s not exactly uncommon – but something about it feels right.

“Do you want it back?” he asks.

No, you don’t. Not yet. You feel like he’s wearing a part of you while he’s wearing it; he has accepted a part of you as a part of himself. You feel warm in the glow of that tiny, tremulous thread between you. You think, and the thought shocks you, that you would be alright he kept it forever. It’s immensely precious to you, so much so that you brought it with you thousands of miles away into your new life, but, somehow, Jungkook’s wearing it brings more to you, more comfort, more confidence, more certainty in the knowledge that there are people in the world that love you. Love is not diminished when given away, it is doubled. You suddenly wish that you did have something of his you could wear, if only for tonight.

The silence lapses and you talk, nursing your drinks, knowing that one of you will have to leave if either of you needs another. You forget the passing of time and everything outside of this little bubble. It’s the most fun you’ve had at a party for ages.

The man who appeared earlier returns and, once again, beckons to Jungkook. Jungkook stands and goes over to him and they, once again, talk quietly. Jungkook returns and the man remains.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Jungkook asks and you feel shattered all of a sudden. You had forgotten all about Hanjae, truth be told, and you are overwhelmed with guilt and shame that you’ve spent the whole night away from him, talking to another man. He isn’t my boyfriend, that’s what you wanted to say: he’s definitely not my boyfriend, or even if he is, I don’t want him to be and he won’t be for much longer! Why is Jungkook asking? Whatever bubble you were in has been popped from the inside. A part of you feels heartbroken and a part of you feels betrayed. It was just you and Jungkook; there’s no need to bring anyone else into this.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know,” you stutter in response. “Probably… somewhere…”. You have no idea where he will be; you assume that he is still here (you hope he is still here because he still has your phone), but who can say for sure?

“Do you want to leave with me?” Jungkook asks and you are stunned into momentary silence.

“What?”

“Do you want to leave with me?” he repeats. “We don’t have to go anywhere; I can take you home if you want, but would you like to leave?”

You feel like that is too many mixed messages to cope with right now so you nod dumbly and stand.

“Hanjae,” you say abruptly as your brain sputters back into gear. “He has my phone and my things.”

“Ok, shall I meet you outside? I’ll wait.”

“I’ll be quick.”

Breathless, you walk as quickly as you can back into the cavernous room, the noise building to a roar, the throng of people overwhelming. You stand on tiptoes and crane your neck, looking for anyone you recognise, cursing the organisers for the dim lighting and all men for their interminably boring black suits which make none of them stand out. You notice movement in your peripheral vision and turn to see a waving arm, beckoning you. It’s not Hanjae; it’s one of his friends.

“Where have you been?” they exclaim as you approach. “Han was looking everywhere for you; thought you must’ve disappeared! Anyway, he had to leave earlier – some work emergency – so he told me to give you these if I saw you.” He hands over your phone, lip balm, and a lipstick you’re sure isn’t yours. “He told you you can order a car if you like, but he won’t be back so you’ll have to get home on your own.”

You see that his friends clearly have no idea of entertaining you or keeping you company for the rest of the evening, which is just as well, given you were about to leave with someone else.

As you make your way outside, you look at the lipstick you were given. You try to think what might constitute a ‘work emergency’ on a Friday night; it’s not like the guy’s a doctor or fire fighter! You try not to let suspicion creep in, because Hanjae has never given you any reason to doubt his fidelity before, but then, you’ve also never considered it, because you’ve never really considered the two of you to be in an actual relationship. Maybe he hadn’t either. And if that’s the case, then there’s no need to be hurt or angered by it. But there is a niggle. There’s something crawling, digging up, trying to plant its seed in your heart. You decide if it’s going to happen at all, it will have to be tonight. As you approach the doorway, you stand to one side and dial Hanjae’s number.

“여보세요?” he answers just as you were about to give up.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh. Where are you?”

“I’m still at the party.”

“Oh. Where did you go? I tried to look for you earlier; I’m not there anymore. I’ve had to come to the office.”

“Yeah, I know; I found Seongyoung and he gave me my phone.”

“Right yeah, yeah.” He sounds distracted.

“So, are you in the office now?” you ask.

“Yeah, but I can’t see you; there’s been a huge mistake and it’s going to take a long time to fix.”

“Please; it’ll be quick. I promise.”

He sighs heavily but agrees. You hang up the phone with a small weight sitting in your stomach.

You turn back to the entrance and walk out, scanning for Jungkook. There are a few dark cars sitting in front of you but you have no idea if any one of them belongs to him. You hesitate, not sure where to turn, standing awkwardly in front of drivers and security officers. A door on one of the cars opens and a hand waves; you approach and Jungkook beams up at you from inside.

“Quick!” He reaches out to grab your hand and pull you in. He speaks quickly to the driver in Korean and turns back to you. “Are you alright?”

“Um, actually, can we go somewhere?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I… have to do something. It won’t take long, please.”

“Of course, that’s ok. Where do you want to go?”

You give him the address of Hanjae’s office building and he relays it to the driver. You sit, slightly on edge, compulsively flicking the edge of your phone case off and on, off and on. The building isn’t far and you sit in silence while Jungkook hums along to the radio. You are barely even aware of what song is playing. The driver slows and you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Just give me like, five minutes. I’ll be quick,” you say as you open the car door.

“It’s ok; you can take as long as you like. I will wait.”

You wonder what Jungkook thinks you are doing, where he thinks you are. You wonder if he knows. Part of you assumes he does, since he seems to intuitively understand so much about you. You enter the building and approach the reception desk. The woman behind it barely looks up as she opens the barrier to let you in. You’re not sure if she recognises you from times you’ve been here before or just does not care about her job. If you had to man a reception desk in an almost entirely empty building on a Friday night, you probably wouldn’t care much either. As you call a thank you to her and walk past, the lipstick suddenly flashes into your mind. Could it be hers? You suppose it could be. It could be anyone’s. It might not have anything to do with Hanjae at all. Maybe Seongyoung handed you his girlfriend’s lipstick by mistake. Maybe not. It won’t matter soon.

You reach Hanjae’s floor and can see him in his glass-walled office: jacket and tie off, sleeves rolled up, standing and on the phone. You walk with purpose to his door and wave. He gestures for you to come in, so you stand inside the door and wait for his conversation to end.

“What’s up?” he asks, putting his phone on his desk.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” you begin, your resolve holding firm for now.

“Right now? I really don’t have time-“

“I said I’d be quick and I meant it.” If you aren’t quick, you’re not sure you’ll be able to go through with it.

“Ok then, shoot.”

You hadn’t actually planned what you were going to say. None of the words sounded right; you wanted to be clear and direct but kind at the same time; is it even possible to tell someone kindly that you don’t want them to be in your life anymore? You clench and unclench your fist and decide to rip the plaster straight off.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I don’t think we should be together. I think we should end things. This is over.” The words tumble out without your being able to stop them. Hanjae’s eyebrows raise and he looks surprised.

“Oh.”

He looks a little dumb-founded but you had expected him to say more and aren’t sure what to do now. You open and close your mouth like a goldfish, waiting for something else to happen. You haven’t actually broken up with anyone before so you’re not sure how this usually goes.

“Can I ask why?”

“We’re not a good fit.” You hope that this will suffice but you know it won’t satisfy him.

“What does that mean? Don’t we have fun together? Don’t we like each other?” Ay, there’s the rub.

“Actually, I don’t really think you do, no.” You try to explain to him all the things you’ve been feeling recently; you try not to blame him for any of it because you don’t want this to turn into an argument; you tread as carefully as you can but you’re so desperate for this to be over now it’s started that you can’t stop your mouth running on and on.

“You’ve given me so much and I’m so grateful to you for that and I really value all the time we have spent together and I do think you’re a nice person and I don’t want to hurt you but… well, this is how I feel.” You feel a little breathless as you come to a stop. Hanjae doesn’t say anything for a while and you can’t read his face. You don’t know what he’s thinking and the longer the silence lasts, the sicker and sicker you feel.

“I’m sorry that you feel that my attention has been so unwelcome,” he finally answers, speaking slowly and coldly. “I don’t really know what else I could have done to show you that I value you: I buy you things, take you places, I introduced you to all of my friends, I show you off; is that not loving? You say you don’t even think I like you, but if that’s true, why would I bother to see you? Why would I waste my time with you if I didn’t? I hadn’t, until now, considered our time together a waste, but it seems as though my efforts have been just that. You’ve been feeling this way for weeks, have you? Well, why are you here, then? Why did you come tonight at all if all of my friends ignore you and all of my attention is so unwanted? If the time we spend together makes you feel so awful, why have you waited this long to say something? You disappeared very early this evening; I tried looking for you everywhere. You said you were getting a drink and then I didn’t see you again. Perhaps it’s not that my attention is unwanted but that you’ve found someone else whose attention you prefer? Were you just putting up with me for long enough to find a higher roller, someone richer, or more famous perhaps? Am I a step on your ladder to the top? You have never, until tonight, given me a reason not to trust you, but you have to admit that this is rather out of the blue and your behaviour at the party was… not very polite. You abandoned me-“

You scoff at that, unable to stop yourself. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. Hanjae raises his eyebrows and waits for you to explain yourself. You’ve no idea how. You say nothing. You’re the first to break eye contact and you look at the ground, then the window, the desk, anywhere but Hanjae’s face.

“Fine,” he says. “Have it your way. What a horrible boyfriend I was to you, to treat you to presents and dinners and parties, to be so impressed by you that I want to show you off to everyone I know, to speak English with you and help you with Korean, to help you get settled in, to give you a social life, to show you what Seoul has to offer, what I have to offer, to never treat you like-“

“A person. You didn’t treat me like a person, Hanjae. I’m not a prize to show off; I’m a person first, not an object.” Your heart is hammering in your chest and you can feel tears pricking in your eyes. How can you get him to understand?

“Oh, I objectify you?” It is his turn to scoff. “And yet I am the one who has been used.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

“No, I- it’s- we- I-“

“Whatever, you can leave now.” He turns his back on you and picks up his phone again. He turns around with the phone to his ear and nods at the door, shooing you away. You turn around and leave the office on trembling legs. As soon as you step into the lift to go back down, the tears come. You’re not even sure why you’re crying; you wanted this after all. It was just horrible. You feel sticky with sweat all over, and shaky with the stress of it. You know that Hanjae isn’t right, saying those things about you, and he was lashing out defensively, but it hurt all the same. Or maybe he is a little bit right. You said yourself that he’s given you so much, access to things and people and places you wouldn’t have had otherwise; you said yourself that you enjoyed that. Maybe you are in the wrong, at least a little bit. You both are, you suppose. You exit the lift and walk briskly out of the office, not turning to look at the receptionist on your way out in case she sees you crying. You step out of the door and hide behind a pillar, catching your breath, drying your tears and trying to put on a happy face. Leaning against the cold stone of the wall, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“____?”

Shit. Jungkook is right there in front of you, looking concerned.

“Are you ok? What happened?”

You shake your head and hold up your hands.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You stand up straight and give yourself a body shake. “Honestly, it’s fine.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You can’t think of much worse than going home to your poky apartment to spend the rest of your night miserable and alone.

“No… Can we, can we get a drink? Do you want to get a drink?”

Jungkook grimaces slightly. “Ah, that’s kind of difficult for me. I can’t really just go to a bar on a Friday night, y’know?”

Your heart sinks; of course he doesn’t want to go to a bar with you.

“We could have a drink at my house, if you want?” he offers.

Your heart rises. God, yes, please.

You drive back to Jungkook’s apartment in silence. The presence of the driver makes you feel somehow inhibited, self-conscious. You feel conspicuous, even though you’re sure the driver couldn’t care less about who you are or what you’re doing there. He’s just doing his job. You, nevertheless, don’t want to say anything yet, not until you’re alone with Jungkook. He’s scrolling on his phone, and you take the opportunity to study him more closely. His face changes with the changing light: suddenly brightly lit as you stop at traffic lights under a lamppost, then hidden in shadows. He has a kind face, open and bright, deep, soft eyes… You wanted to reach out a finger to trace his profile, the line of his lips, study him as if you were about to embark upon a masterpiece of him. Not that you would be able to capture his spirit if you tried. There’s a light in his eyes that seems to lie so deeply within them but shine so close to the surface.

You can’t work out what you’re feeling – too much, honestly. You need a minute to step back, step out of yourself – out of your life – to sort through everything that had happened. You feel a little as though you have accidentally stepped on a travelator and things are moving faster than you can keep up with. You wonder if you’ll regret any of this in the morning, if sleep will clear your mind and show your actions up as mistakes. You hope not. You think not. You catch the glint of your bracelet, still around Jungkook’s wrist and you nod to yourself. No, this – if this alone – is not a mistake.

When you arrive at Jungkook’s building, he shows you in and your mouth gapes. This was much bigger than Hanjae’s place. Wow. Just how famous was this guy? You are reminded forcefully of how little you actually know about him, whatever your feelings might be saying.

“What would you like to drink?” he asks, crouching in front of a cabinet. He opens the door to reveal all manner of spirits and liquors.

“Oh, anything,” you answer, without thinking. He laughs and you’re embarrassed by your answer but making another decision at this point feels impossible. You feel like a swan, calm on top, but flailing wildly underneath. You begin to think that maybe you should have let Jungkook take you home, so you could’ve gone to bed, or stared out of the window blankly until the sun rose. He’s too stimulating. Questions constantly rise to the surface of your mind like bubbles in boiling water: what’s his family like? What’s his favourite film? What’s his favourite food? Is he single? What’s he thinking? What does he want out of life? He’s already achieved his career dream so what’s his next dream?

He hands you a glass and you take a sip without even looking. It’s strong, good. You follow Jungkook to the sofa and flop onto it, thankful to be sitting comfortably. He asks if the drink is ok and you just nod and take another sip. You’re torn with conflicting desires: to stare at him endlessly, to fall into his chest and listen to his heartbeat, to tell him everything, to listen to him tell you everything, to kiss him, to never kiss him, to be his best friend, to fall in love with him, to fall in love with him and love him from afar from the rest of your life. It’s exquisite, the confusion, the keenness of your muddled feelings. You wonder briefly if you are just drunk but shake the thought from your head: you haven’t had that much to drink.

You drink in silence for a while and when you’ve finished, you stand. Placing your glass on the coffee table, you wander over to the bookcase, full of not books but DVDs and figurines. You scan the titles, your eyes not really seeing. They linger on a small figurine of a tiger at the edge of a shelf. You pick it up.

“Year of the tiger?” you ask, brandishing the figure at him.

“It is.” He stands and comes closer to you, taking the tiger in his hand.

“This is me,” you tell him. 24 years old, you were born two tigers ago. You take the figure back and wiggle it in his face. He laughs.

“I’m an ox,” he says, kneeling down. He opens the door of a little cabinet and reveals figurines for each of the zodiac animals. You laugh picking them up and inspecting them. He takes the ox from the cupboard and the tiger from your hand and puts them both back on the bookshelf. Feeling silly, you move the tiger and make a sound that’s neither quite a roar nor a meow as though the tiger is talking to the ox. Jungkook laughs and responds in kind, lowing deeply as he turns the ox towards the tiger. This is the sort of nonsense you need to lift you from the deep water of your confused feelings.

You move to the window as Jungkook refills your glass. It’s probably a good view that he probably paid a lot of money for but you can’t be enamoured with so many lights and so much modern architecture. You can just barely make out the dark shape of the mountains beyond and you smile; that’s more like it. Jungkook joins you at the window. You talk quietly; you don’t want to tell him that you broke up with Hanjae, because it implies something that you don’t really want to imply, but it comes out in the course of conversation and you actually feel relieved. You don’t know what Jungkook feels about it, if anything, but he seems pleased for you. You feel like everything is so fragile, delicate, precarious. You stay talking at the window for what feels like hours (maybe it is) because you feel that to move will be to ruin the moment somehow, force a shift in the atmosphere that you don’t want.

Your eyes settle on the gold chain at his wrist and your fingers reach out for it, toying with it. Jungkook’s hand moves, into yours, his fingers dancing on your palm. You flick your eyes back to his and he’s smiling at you, shy and sweet. You let him take your hand and suddenly it’s a handshake and you’re snorting, laughing, leaning towards each other as your shoulders shake. You lean your head on his shoulder as your breath comes back and Jungkook moves his hand to waist, pulls you closer to him.

He’s still smiling when you lift your head to look at him and you’re staring back at him, wide-eyed and unsure. He pulls you closer still, his arm snaking around your waist and he kisses you without hesitation. His lips are soft but he isn’t; he’s sure and confident and he brings his thumb to your chin to gently press down, gently open your mouth and let him inside. You’re responding before you’ve had the opportunity to think. Your hands grab at the collar of his shirt and you move against him, a leg between his legs, his bottom lip between your teeth. You’re dizzied and light-headed, grateful to the cool glass at your back and Jungkook’s arms secure around you.

When he pulls back, with apparent effort, he rests his forehead on yours, nudges your nose with his and looks at you from under his thick, dark lashes.

“Honestly, I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he says, his voice hushed in the silence of the apartment, and then he barely brushes his lips against yours again, as if he just can’t help himself.

If you were confused earlier, you aren’t anymore. The world around you has faded to a fuzzy, black blur, eclipsed by the soft bloomings of want in your chest.

“I’ve wanted you to do that all night,” you whisper back, aware only as you’re saying it that it’s true. You have wanted him to do that. You want him to do it again and then a whole lot more.

He takes your face in his hands and kisses you, lightly, gently.

“I don’t usually do this,” he says, eyes alighting on yours for only a second before he’s looking at your lips again. “It’s not… This isn’t like me but…”

“I know,” you reply. “Me, too.”

“I feel…”

“Something.”

“Yeah.”

Your heart skips a beat when he looks at you and the world holds its breath; you almost feel time slow down, the seconds that it takes for his hands to fall from your face, glide down your body, and encircle you again stretch into minutes. The distance between your lips – not even inches – stretches far into the horizon. You almost feel each of the chambers of your heart squeeze, a rush of warmth heating your cheeks, your chest, your core.

And then his lips are on you and you’re like a Catherine wheel, spinning and sparking and wild. Time snaps back like an elastic band and you’re frantic now, all hands and lips and tongue.

You slip your fingers into his shirt, flicking open the buttons, running your hands over his body, soft and supple and flushed. His hands push your dress higher and higher, over the slope of your hips and he lifts you, pushing you against the glass and pushing his body into yours. You can feel the arousal pooled at your core and you can feel him straining against his trousers. You’re wet like you’ve been waiting all night for it, like you’ve been anticipating this very moment since you first laid eyes on him. You push his shirt to the floor, watching it float down like a white flag of surrender: surrendering yourself to him, he to you, to this, whatever this is or could be.

“Oh, fuck, fuck.”

Soft whispers tumble from you as Jungkook’s fingers slide past your underwear and press into your wet heat. Your cunt squeezes against them and your hips cant towards him as he presses his thumb against your clit. Your whimpering, whining, mewling barely drowns out the squelch of his fingers working inside you, arousal dripping down his hand. You’re climbing steadily to your peak, moaning against his mouth as he rolls his tongue with yours. You pull on his hair, his head tipping back, his throat exposed. He looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a slack jaw. Then he grins, thrumming faster, pressing harder and you’re squirming. You let go of his hair to clutch around his shoulders, holding on hard as your own head tips back, thudding against the glass.

Jungkook brings his face close to yours and nudges your nose with his, gently guiding your attention back to him. He holds your gaze as your legs quiver and shake, as your breath hitches and you close your eyes, so, so close now.

“Look at me.” His voice is low, soft, but demanding. “I want to see you… I want you to look at me when you come.”

And you do. Your eyes don’t leave his as you fall apart in his arms, pleasure coursing through you like a lightning strike. You’ve barely finished before he’s crashing his lips into you, urgent and needy and then suddenly neither of those things. He slows. He removes his fingers from your soaking wet slip and he holds you close to him, just barely grinding his hips into you. His kiss is deep, languorous, like he’s really tasting you now. The quiet moan he makes as his tongue rolls with yours makes your heart skip a beat and you’re weak. So weak that, when he drops you, lightly, your feet returning to the floor, you almost stumble, almost fall. But he’s got you.

He pushes your dress back down, smoothing it out so he can unzip it. He finally breaks your kiss as he pulls it from your shoulders, letting it slip down your arms. You’re braless and goosebumps sprinkle all over your skin, your nipples shivering to attention. You run your hands through Jungkook’s hair as he dips his head, lowers himself to kiss your neck, your chest, to run his tongue up the underside of your breast and suck your tight little bud into his mouth. The glass at your back is cold but he is so warm in front of you.

He drops to his knees, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulls them to the floor. You step out and he flings them away.

“I want to make you come again.”

He looks up at you and his eyes are wide, imploring, asking, seeking, searching and it’s all you can do to just nod. You’ve had one-night stands and hook-ups and situationships and even boyfriends who haven’t said that to you, who haven’t cared enough to try for one, let alone more.

He’s still looking at you when he puts his mouth on you and runs his tongue through your folds. You let your head fall back again, eyes to the ceiling. Jungkook grunts, the vibration against you a little shock. You look back down at him and he nods, swirling his tongue around your clit, and you understand: he wants you to look at him, he wants to see you and wants you to see him seeing you, as you have all evening. Because he does. See you. He sees you like no one else has. You can already feel it bubbling up within you. You can sense his soul reaching out to yours as yours reaches back to him. You think to yourself that you would probably have fallen in love with him even if he weren’t so good at—

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook. Fuck. Yes, like that.”

He’s fucking you with his fingers again with his mouth sealed around your clit, the soft plane of his tongue pressing against it, sucking and then lapping. You grab onto his hair, hard, grounding you, something, anything to tether you to this world as you feel yourself floating away.

He groans and you understand his instruction, having to drag your eyes back to his. His brows are furrowed, eyes shining bright. Looking into his eyes at this moment is like falling into an abyss. Tumbling and twisting, your body writhes with pleasure, shuddering against the window as you come again, a cry strangled in your throat, legs shaking and then you’re literally falling, sliding down the glass. Jungkook follows you down, his fingers still pressing against you as he kisses up your stomach, your chest, and then he’s holding you. You’re in his arms and he’s kissing you, your own arousal all over his lips and his tongue.

“You ok?” he asks, his voice thick and low.

You couldn’t speak. Could only take his face between your palms and kiss him again. He lifts you up into his lap, so you’re straddling him, knees either side of his hips, and you can feel him, pressing against his trousers, trapped and tensed. You sit down a little further and roll your hips over him; he groans into your mouth and his hands on your glutes squeeze tight.

“Jungkook,” you whisper and he whispers your name back. “Please.”

He lifts you from his lap and kneels up, hands working at his belt and his zip. He stands to shuck them down his legs and kicks them off. You look up at him and ask,

“Do you have…?”

He nods, crossing the room to his wallet on the sideboard by the door. You press your hands against the cool glass of the window, but rather than cooling you, it warms, too. There is heat all over you, burning around you.

Jungkook returns and falls to his knees, condom in hand. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and mumbles, rolling his eyes at himself as he stands once more to push them all the way down and off. You giggle, reaching out for him, rising on your knees as he slides the rubber over his length. He pulls you to your feet and cages you in against the window, lips capturing yours.

He bites down on your lower lip and you can feel him at your entrance. He’s rubbing his length along your slick slit and you’re whimpering, walls fluttering, heart racing. He breaks the kiss to look you in the eye as he pushes into you. A soft gasp leaves you and your hands circle tight around his biceps. You can feel him slow, his eyes watching you carefully now.

“No, don’t stop, don’t stop. It feels good. Please.”

He continues, still slowly, and, when he’s all the way in, he kisses you again, pressing his body against yours.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, but whatever you were about to say disappears into a moan as he drags his cock out and then pushes back in. He moans back and brings a hand to your breast, his thumb rubbing light circles against your pert nipple. You’re already not sure how you’re still standing and then he lowers his lips to your neck and sucks at just exactly the right spot. Your legs tremble and your cunt quivers and you feel his hot breath against your skin as he chuckles.

“You like that, huh?”

“Yes.”

He says no more and his lips return to the sweet spot on your neck. You cling to him, gripping tightly, every pass of the head of his dick against your g-spot a test of your strength, fading rapidly as you start to drown in him. He thrusts deep and slow with little grunts of effort, like he’s holding back.

“Jungkook, I—”

“Yes?”

He’s looking at you again and, up close like this, he takes your breath away.

“I want more. More. I-… I can’t stand, but I wan—oh.”

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s grabbing you, his hands at the backs of your thighs lifting you, taking all your weight onto him. You wrap your legs around him and he moves faster now, harder, looking down at where he disappears into you. He’s more vocal, louder, as he fucks you into the window and the sound of him, his pleasure, his pleasure in you, stirs you. You’re fucked out and weak but your desire renews your force. You squeeze your walls against him and he curses.

“Shit.”

You do it again and a tiny chuckle bubbles up in his throat.

“Baby, you are dangerous. You’re—fuck, hngh—you’re going to make me come.”

He’s panting and breathy and his hair sticks to his forehead. You wrap you arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, his jaw, bite at his earlobe.

“Isn’t that the point?” you whisper.

A shudder runs through him and he growls, his grip on you tighter, even painfully tight. You pull back to look at him and his eyes are black, his jaw set, his brow furrowed. But he’s still looking at you; his eyes aren’t glazed, aren’t elsewhere, aren’t looking through you. He’s seeing you and you feel naked but not afraid, not exposed. You hold his face and kiss him and he grunts, groans; it’s open-mouthed and sloppy, your breath mingling as your tongues slide past and over each other.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and his stare is so intense, from that alone you would know he was close. He’s cursing lightly, repeatedly, fucking you hard, and then he’s coming, too, with a shudder and an animal groan, guttural and low.

He lowers you both down to the floor and lays you down, kissing you lightly, almost politely, as he brushes your hair from your face. He turns away and stands, disposing of the used condom and grabbing the blanket from the sofa. You just watch him return to you, settling next to you on the floor, covering both your bodies.

You look at the window where your heat and sweat have condensed in an already fading cloud. You laugh and point it out; he laughs, too.

“It’s almost gone already,” he says, watching it shrink, disappear, self-effacing.

You hum. This is usually when you’d feel awkward, make a show of being polite, get up and go but you don’t want to leave; you want to stay right where you are and watch the sun rise with him. You want to yawn and stretch yourself like a cat before curling against him and sleeping through the morning. You want to kiss him both goodnight and good morning. You look at him looking at the window and imagine an entire life with him, spanning years and decades in a second. Your heart beats heavy in your chest and you wonder if he can feel it, if he feels it, too.

When he finally looks back at you, you know. He kisses you like you’re precious, gently traces the shapes of your face with featherlight fingers. You shiver and he pulls you closer into his warm body, pulls the blanket tighter around you.

“Y’know,” he says, pausing to kiss you again. “I’m really glad I went to that party.”

[nonexistent-introvert]

Anomaly

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

Word Count: 2k

Content: angst, idrk what’s gg on either, fights, you’re a Spider-Man too

A/N: post ATSV dump, I fell into the black hole known as Miguel O’Hara, I just needed to write this so it’s probably a mess 😵‍💫 I’m also posting this on my phone so- grammarly isn’t here to save me

Miguel stared at the footage of the new spiderman on his various screens. An headache making him all the more annoyed. There was barely any information on this person, the only thing he knew about them was the fact that they were an anomaly. Someone who wasn’t supposed to become a spiderman.

“Miguel! We brought them in.” Jess called out to him. Miguel turned his head, his eyes stared at the spiderman that has been causing him an headache for the past week as his platform descended.

The sound of machinery filled the place. There was an palpable tension in the air but what he didn’t expect was the sound of webs. His spidey senses tingled but it was already too late as you had swung yourself onto the platform. Gasps erupted from below, no one has ever dared to do that. “What do you think you’re doing?” Miguel spoke, authority in his voice. Mildly taken aback that you were able to act faster than his spidey senses could alert him. “You really should do something better with this.” You gestured to the platform that the both of you were standing on that was still in the process of descending. Your eyes scanned the screens before you, “If this is your dimension, technology is definitely much more advanced than… this.” You pointed out, mentioning the futuristic dimension the headquarters was located at. The rate of the machinery descending was too slow for anyone’s liking.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyance and anger filling him. “Just- who exactly are you?” He seethed. “Shouldn’t you know that? Judging by all this.” Your fingers danced across the screens with no care in the world, watching the various footages of you. Miguel slapped your hands away from the screens, “Take your mask off.” He raised his voice, a bunch of the spiderman shuddered in fear. You simply laughed, leaning back. “You haven’t even introduced yourself.” Miguel’s blood was boiling by now, “I’m Miguel O’Hara” Lyla was on one of the screens, watching the interaction with an amused look. It has been decades since anyone eveen dared challenge the stoic and unfunny spiderman.

“Wasn’t so hard was it?” You grinned, introducing your name to him. He froze at your name, quickly recovering his composure, there were plenty of people out there with the same name.

You pulled out a headpiece and Miguel watched as the nanotech retract to reveal a familiar face. A charming smile on your face while he just stared in disbelief.

“Everyone, out.” He ordered. Despite a few protests, everyone left. “Oh, am I that special?” You teased, waving to the spidermen who were leaving. Miguel couldn’t help but stare, you weren’t suppose to be here, he wasn’t supposed to see you ever again. However, you seem totally oblivious to his inner turmoil.

When you looked at him again, the playful look in your eye faltered. You pursed your lips, staring at the platform you were standing on. “Are you really-” Miguel started, his eyes softening.

“In the flesh. You got quite the set up here.” You remarked. Miguel shook his head, turning away from you. “I caused this. I dragged you into this mess.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I figured this out on my own.” You gestured to the suit you were wearing. “Because I saved you! Because I couldn’t bring myself to let you die. It is the whole reason you’re standing here as an anomaly!” Miguel shouted, he shouldn’t have interfered. He was supposed to minimise contact with anyone from other dimensions, he let himself get too close to you.

==================================

Every thought in Miguel’s head screamed at him to stop returning to you. He was supposed to be in his office at the headquarters, making sure that the multiverse is stable. However, he kept finding excuses after excuses to return to your dimension. To see you again, to laugh and talk to you.

“Oh you’re back.” You greeted upon returning to your home, putting your work bag down. Miguel smiled at you, “Missed you.” He admitted with a soft smile as he let you fall into his arms. You knew Miguel was lying to you, lying to you that he was a scientist at Alchemax. Even if it was once his job, you knew it wasn’t anymore. The long and sudden disappearances, he was practically a ghost and a figment of your imagination. While you lied in his embrace and listened to his voice, you couldn’t bring yourself to question him about it.

“Is there something wrong?” Miguel asked, noticing how you kept spacing out. Your usual cheery and playful tone missing. “I-” You stirred in his arms. “You’re not really a scientist at Alchemax are you?” Miguel kept his face blank, “Why?” he should have known better to underestimate you, to think that you would believe in the white lie he told you.

You pulled yourself away from him. “Never mind” you brushed your own doubt off, you didn’t want to ruin anything. Miguel tightened his hold on you, to stop you from distancing yourself, both metaphorically and literally. “I’m not.” He confessed. His eyes scanning yours for a reaction.

The watch that he wore started beeping. You sighed, “You’re not from around here” Finally putting the pieces together. “I’m sorry amor.” He apologised, rushing off.

If Miguel knew that would be the last time he saw you. He would have let the world burn just to spend the time with you.

“No!” He exclaimed. The flames engulfed the building and everything in it. The same building he had just left you in, the building that he visited everytime to see you, the building that was your home. Miguel eyes scanned the civilians that were evacuated from the building for you to no avail. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, one clear goal in mind, that he needed to find you. The voices of the civilians panicking, praying for their loved ones filled his ears, then he picked up on the sound of your name. He cursed when they said that you had ran back in to help others.

The building collapsed on itself, Miguel ignored everything. The rubble that was falling only increased his anxiety. He almost cried when he saw you unconscious on the floor.

“Second and third degree burns. Over-inhalation of smoke.” Lyla listed. He was bent over your body, doing anything he could. “There isn’t much hope.” Lyla ended, Miguel would have screamed at her if he wasn’t so focused on rescuriating you.

“No,no,no!” He chanted, his fingers finding your weak pulse. Miguel was at a loss, he couldn’t lose you. “Lyla. Give me the drug.” Lyla eyes widened, “She’s collateral damage Miguel. Saving her will cause the multiverse to-“ “I know that!” Miguel screamed, he knew he was putting everything on the line by saving you. However he couldn’t bring himself to just walk away, to just let you die.

Miguel continued to watch you from afar after he saved you with the drug. He watched as you were accompanied to the hospital and made sure that your condition was stable. Then he made the vow to himself.

The vow that he will no longer break any of the rules he had set for himself. He will not let anyone of a different dimension close to him, he will not risk the multiverse. Miguel O’Hara will not see you again no matter what happens.

He should have known that your stubborn personality would have brought you here to him.

==============

“Being a Spider-Man means people close to you will die. It’s a curse and a responsibility.” Miguel told you. You scoffed at him, “I’m not new to this. I went for so long without you ever noticing my existence. Even when you did, you never knew my identity.” Miguel ran his hands through his hair, “Lyla, check up on what’s her canon event.” “On it!” Lyla chirped. You shook your head, “about that. I think I got lucky.” Miguel glared at you, his mouth opened to scold you for what you just uttered.

“It has already happened. Her canon event has already occured.” Lyla announced. You nodded with your hands on your hips. “What?” Miguel eyes widened.

“My canon event was losing you.” You announced . Miguel’s jaw dropped, that was the reason why he couldn’t track your story, because it had already happened. “I’m lucky because I didn’t lose you for good it seems.” You pointed at him.

“You could have lived a perfectly normal life.” Miguel’s voice became significantly softer. “I would have been dead.” You pointed out. “If you never met me, you could have led a simple life without having to put yourself in danger. Maybe even a family.” The thought of you having a family brought a bittersweet taste to his mouth. You would be a fantastic mother but the thought of you being with someone else was a reality he didn’t want to hear about.

“My life wouldn’t be complete without you.” Miguel stood up to his full height. “You don’t know that.” He snapped.

“We were a mistake. We never should have even met.” Miguel breathed.

Those words hung in the air, suffocating the both of you. You put your hands on your hips, squaring your shoulders and clenching your jaw. You looked at the costume and the symbol you wore on your chest. “The whole reason I’m here is because I’m an anomaly right?” You started. Miguel kept quiet, pressing on the various screens. “Then right your mistakes Miguel. Get rid of me, or whatever you do to anomalies.” You challenged, stepping closer to him.

Miguel remained silent with his back facing you. His fists were clenched on the counter. Miguel was the whole reason you even became a spiderman. You studied quantum physics, tried your very best to be able to come up with something so that you could see him again. Then you figured out a way to become like him, to save lives. It was all to see him again. However, meeting him now. It was a dream come true but why did it seem more like a nightmare?

“Lyla, send her home.” Miguel muttered. “After all the trouble?” Lyla asked, she knew how many nights Miguel had spent just tracking and studying you, to understand your timeline and story. You stepped forward, putting your hand on his shoulder. Miguel was quick enough to turn around, one touch from you and he would never let you go again. “So you’re just going to live the rest of your life being guilty that you dragged me into being spiderman while upholding whatever stupid promise you made about not seeing me again?” You were on the verge of tears, after everything and Miguel didn’t even want to see you. “Yes. I will accept you are spiderman but I will not allow myself to indulge in your company again. I will not repeat my mistake.”

“Mistake of what?” You asked exasperatedly, closing your eyes to calm yourself down. You will not shed tears in front of him. Anger burned in Miguel’s eyes, “I almost caused you to die! You were suppose to die in that fire and it would be because I was there, because you are someone close to me. I will not allow that to happen. Then, you became spiderman too, putting yourself out there in danger and endangering everyone you care about. You don’t understand what you had gotten yourself into.” Miguel emphasised.

“I’m going to die no matter what Miguel! I’m not immortal. I will die in that fire regardless if I met you or not. I could have died after you left me regardless if I had become Spider-Man. I could die tomorrow for all I know!” You tried to knock some logic into Miguel.

Silence fell between the both of you. You shifted your weight from one foot to another,chuckling lightly. “For a Spider-Man, you are a coward, Miguel O’Hara.” You spat.

“There is no happily ever after for us, don’t you get it? Let’s just cut our losses here, let’s not tempt fate.” Miguel insisted, a pained look on his face. You smiled sadly at him, “It was nice seeing you O’Hara.” He stared as you walked off his platform.

“I did miss you, I will miss you.” Miguel admitted, finally getting it off his chest.

“Not enough apparently.”

You waved, turning your back against him and putting your mask back on.

[ao3commentoftheday]

Thank you for all the interesting posts you share, and really your entire blog. I appreciate it!

A few posts recently have mentioned having beta readers or fandom friends to talk story things over with. Do you or any of your followers have any suggestions on how to find beta readers or like minded people to connect with in a fandom?

Thank you <3

All of my beta readers (the few that I've had) have been people I was already friends with first. If you don't have fandom friends (yet) and need a beta sooner, I suggest posting on your social media accounts saying that you're looking for one, and add it to the end notes on a chapter or fic. You'd be surprised how often that works.

As for finding friends, here are a few of the things I've done myself:

drop into someone's ask box. Send a message in greeting, reference a recent post of theirs, ask a question from an ask meme they've posted, compliment their fanworks or theories.

create fanart or a fic for them. Waaaay back when I first joined the Agents of SHIELD fandom I saw a post where someone was talking about their Labyrinth AU fic and I did a quick photoshop of Fitz as Gareth. Immediate fandom bestie who introduced me to like 5 other people.

comment on their fanart and fics - either on AO3 or in tumblr tags etc. Let them know that you see them and appreciate them. Ask them a question about what they created and start a conversation that way.

put a question out to the fandom. Write a tumblr post, add a question to your fic notes on AO3. It can be something serious or silly, but if you welcome answers and respond to people, you'd be surprised what can happen. For example - this wasn't supposed to be an ask blog. It just kinda... happened.

Let's see what suggestions other folks have for making friends or finding beta readers. There's a LOT of options out there!

[pix3lplays]

So about that dark stuff- LMFAO-

Just like. This one is short because I might write more about it later, but like... Argenti is literally OBSESSED with his pursuit of Idrila and finding them. Based on some of the last few things that TB (Trailblazer) talks about with Himeko in the mission with him (finished it last night), it's safe to say that his methods and beliefs are a bit... irrational? I literally took screenies of the convo because oml- Himeko says: "Let's assume that Argenti finds the 'missing' Idrila. Will he be able to recognize them with his human eyes. Or, obsessed with his version of 'them', will he turn a blind eye and not even see them for who they are?"

This is literally a perfect setup for dark romance bs LOL-

Imagine if he believed you to be Idrila, convinced of it and unable to let go of his obsession and his firm belief in what Idrila is meant to be. Subtly shaping you into the image of the beauty, gently manipulating correcting you when you stray from the path. Here in the garden of beauty, only beauty and perfection may remain. After all, Argenti has been devoted to chasing after Idrila and beauty for so long. He is their most devoted follower. He has to be right.

And even worse is you have to keep this act up in public because part of his mission is to spread beauty. So of course he's showing you off to everyone as he brings you along everywhere he goes.

Also I made the drawing bigger. Idk why I like making myself suffer. Still losing my mind over Argenti, I guess. The man himself is art so I suppose it just be like that.

(Also x2: I hope you know that the arranged marriage thing with Argenti has been stuck in my head since you posted it oml- Your writing is always so good. <333)

*Goes backwards for some reason*

Aaaaaa thank youuu, that was a FUN one to write.

The drawing is Perfection, thank you

OK BUT HEAR ME OUT. He’s taking you out in about in Public, introducing you as THE Idrila. You start the subtle little cries for help. Trying to subtly express that this man is CRAZY and you need help to escape and he can Tell what you’re trying to do and he squeezes your hand in warning and it shuts you up immediately because you know you simply CANNOT bear another punishment from him.

[fjordline]

ok i've been thinking about how to answer The Color Asks for so long now. Once I start talking about colors I never stop, it seems. This is just me attempting to explain my personal thought process and not any universal rules or anything like that.

None of this is going to look very realistic at all. You need to exaggerate a little. That being said, having fundamental knowledge on how shadows and ligh tsources work is very useful. Know the rules before breaking them and all that.

Boiled down to its basics, what I think of is: if a lightsource is cold toned, make the highlight bright blue. if a light source is warm, make the highlight bright orange. Then contrast the light with a complementary shadow color that does not compete for dominance with the light. Or alternatively make the light source more neutral with a complimentary tone for the shaded areas and then add a highly saturated color in the deepest shadows. Having both a highly saturated light source and a shadow color will compete with each other, instead choose one to be the dominant and one to be the um. submissive i suppose.

Just using a random doodle from my sketchbook for the purpose of throwing some color on:

^^^ Here the midtones and the areas in the shade are predominantly of a low saturated cool blueish tone, while the highlight is stark and warm with orange and red light bouncing off. The orange and red hues you often see in skin that is lit by a strong light is called subsurface scattering (sss), one of the most important concepts in art IMO. It livens things up so much.

^^^Opposite from image 1, here the shaded area is a saturated golden color while the light source is a dull blue with hints of more vivid blue throughout. the blue balances the strong yellows and browns. Since the shaded area is bigger than the highlighted area, the subject matter could look quite monochromatic without the blue hints.

^^^Get wild with it. Lets say your highlight is blue toned: instead of just using a blue, introduce purple, teal, turquoise, ultramarine, cyan, etc around where the light is hitting. Add several light sources in different colors, make it not make sense, get crazy.

Though what is important above all else is that the image reads clearly. Unless you're doing abstract art then you'd probably want the audience to understand what they're looking at. That's where values come in, probably the number one cause of confusing pieces of art. If you can turn the painting black and white and still see the subject matter clearly then the values are good.

I find that i love using colors that most people find garish, especially when they're on their own, for small highlights and points of interest. When paired with other more neutral colors, a bright orange or a chartreuse etc can really brighten up a painting. And colors are never what they seem, the human eye will interpret colors differently depending on what color they are next to. Make full use of this.

Hope this long ass post helps anyone who is struggling with color, I know I used to struggle severely myself xoxo

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒎

part 3 of 💔broken family💔

summary - your life has gone downhill so fast, having drowned your emotions in alcohol, you're met with your ex-husband dropping your son off.

warning - angst, alcohol abuse, self-doubt, thoughts of disappearing, flashbacks, sad moments, crying, swearing, mentions of not taking care of themselves.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 4

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You didn’t know how long it had been since you last saw Ari and Jason. You didn’t bother to check your phone or take good care of yourself. You hadn’t left the house, and it had gotten worse than when your son was living here, sure. He didn’t love you, but at least someone was there to bring you out of the dark. The bottles piled up in the corner, and bags had gathered under your eyes. You had showered, unable to live with the smell that would occur if you didn’t, but you barely ate. You couldn’t stomach it. The food had slowly gone off, and you relied on the alcohol between your hands to bring you back to those happy dreams, the world you would rather be in than this one. 

You had probably lost your job, but you had already lost everything else in life that you didn’t care anymore. You took another swig, more tears flowing down your face as the memories kept replaying over and over. You stared at the blank tv, remembering when you had first met Ari. 

You were in your twenties, wearing the prettiest light pink sundress and standing in line to get your favourite coffee. You hadn’t noticed the hunk watching you from a table. His laptop opened in front of him as you caught his eye. You were naive but not stupid. He had seen you come in every day, always ordering the same thing and always wearing a different colour sundress. Your head turned, and your eyes connected, causing a spark to flow through the two of you, and you gave him a soft smile, your cheek heating up as he returned it. You remember some asshole bumping into you just as you went to take a sip of your drink, causing the liquid to splash out and stain your dress. Ari had shot up, moving toward you so quickly, making sure you were okay, and giving the man hell before he went and ordered you a new one. You remember sitting down with him, feeling so shy, in the presence of someone so handsome. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He sat down next to you, handing you napkins and putting a large hand on your back as he stared at you with those beautiful blue eyes. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, crap. I forgot to introduce myself.” You swear your heart stopped as he chuckled. The smile on his face and the sound that escaped him was so… So perfect. His eyes connected with yours again, “I’m Ari. What’s your name, gorgeous?” Oh, at that moment, you wished your name was gorgeous. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it would beat out of your chest. 

“I’m Y/n.” His warm hand encased yours, giving it a soft squeeze, and the rest was history. You had fallen in love, got engaged a year after meeting, and then had Jason two years after getting married. You went so perfectly together, you were happy, and it was as if you were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together, but then everything changed. 

You blink, coming out of the memory, gulping down some more of your drink. You are startled as there is a knock at the door. Not knowing that you were supposed to be expecting someone, you got up and headed over to the door, slowly opening it and sighing as you came face to face with Ari, his eyes moving up and down your body, and you just sipped the wine out of the glass in your hand. “Did you need something?” 

“I’m here to drop Jason off.” You raise a brow, wondering why he is dropping your son off, thinking that maybe he has another date with the unknown woman. “Are you up for taking care of him?” You roll your eyes, placing the now empty glass down.

“Of course, I’m up for taking care of my own son. I’m his mother.” Ari nods and lets you know that he will go and get Jason, and you sit back on the couch. When your eyes land on him, you try and smile. “Hey, baby. I missed you. Did you have fun at your dad’s?” He stays between your ex-husband's legs, clinging to him as if you’d steal him away. “I got some new toys for you?” You could feel this draining you further, bringing you deeper into the darkness. 

Jason’s ears perk up at the sound of new toys, causing him to run to his room. “I can take to daddy’s!” You hold back the tears, not wanting Ari to see you so weak as you realise your son still doesn’t want to be around you. How could you fail as a mother? You watch as he comes back with the new toys, holding them in his tiny arms as he heads back over to his father, you try and smile at them, but this is breaking you too much. 

As they leave, you place your head in your hands and burst into tears, screaming and crying. Why was this happening to you? All you wanted to do was hold your son in your arms and tell him you love him. All you wanted was for Ari never to have stopped loving you. The tears kept flowing, and you whimpered into your hands, feeling your heart squeeze inside your chest. Everything had become too much, and you didn’t think you could go any longer like this. You were so lost in your mind that you didn’t notice Ari walking back into the house, his heart breaking as he heard your screams. He had rushed over, kneeling on the ground and bringing you into a hug, his hands gripping the back of your head as your fingers curled into his shirt, sobbing into him, finally letting go of all the pain. 

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, honey. I’m here. It’s okay.” He whispered, but his words were no comfort, not when you knew he wasn’t really here. He would never be here for you. Why would he? He left. Ari held you closer as you shook your head.

“You’re not, and it’s not.” You pull away, staring at him with tear-filled eyes. “I don’t have anyone anymore, Ari. You left. I lost the love of my life because you stopped loving me! I’ve even lost my son because he blames me!” You slam your fists into his chest, more tears flowing down as your heart keeps breaking. “Why are you even here!? Why are you acting as if you care?!” You bite your bottom lip, whimpering and sobbing, staring into the love of your life's eyes, thinking that the hurt look you see is all in your head. You push away, curling into the couch and turning your head. “Just go… It’s what you do best, Ari. You never even gave me a reason…..” You look at him. “Was I that hard to love?” You watch the many emotions go through him, but your eyes slip closed as you lean back into the chair. “You can go now… Looking at you hurts too much.” 

Ari nods, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on your forehead before he walks out of your house. Your tears continue to flow because again. You are truly alone. Your eyes open in shock when tiny arms wrap around you, hugging your body. “I sorry, mummy! I wuv you!” You stare at your son before your eyes move up and lock with Ari’s. Your arms slowly wrap around Jason’s, and you rest your head on top of his head as your eyes slip back closed, smelling his sweet scent, having missed him. “I stay?” You pull back and look at his wide blue eyes.

“Do you want to, baby?” He nods, nuzzling his head into your chest. You look back up to Ari, and he gives you a nod and soft smile before looking back down at your son, holding him closer to you. It felt like you finally got to feel your baby in your arms again before everything went wrong. But you couldn’t get your hopes up because it would break you if he turned around and did what he did before. “Thank you… I’ll drop him off tomorrow.” He waves you off before leaving. “Baby, what do you want to do today?” 

“Food and movies?” He stares up at you with wide eyes, and you nod, excusing yourself first to brush your teeth, change and wash your face, needing to get the scent of alcohol off of you before heading back into the room, noticing him nuzzled into the pillow. When Jason’s eyes meet yours, he gives a little smile. “Mummy!” You smile and head over, sitting down and breathing in as he nuzzles into your side, holding onto you for dear life. You grab your phone and scroll through take-out options.

“Did you want pizza for dinner, baby?” He replies with a little yes, and you nod before standing, his little hands going up as he signals he wants to come with you. You pick him up, place him on your hip and make your way to the kitchen, setting him down on the counter as you prepare the snacks for the movie as you both wait for the pizza. “Have you been enjoying staying at your father’s, baby?” 

Jason nods, “Is good. But at night is sad. Like here.” You tilt your head, stopping what you are doing and wiping your hands onto a teatowel. You slowly move over to him and cup his cheeks.

“What do you mean sad, baby?” You stroke his cheek, staring down worriedly at him. “Baby, what happens at night at daddy’s house?” 

He sniffles, pouting as he looks up at you. “At nigh’, daddy cries. Is like here when you cry, he tries to be quiet, but I hear him.” Jason leans into your hand. “Is sad.” He pats your hands, “I in trouble?” 

You shake your head, “No, baby. You aren’t in trouble. Do you know why he’s always crying?” You continue to stroke his cheek.

Jason shrugs. “All hear is I sowwy.” You nod, pressing a kiss on his head.

“Okay, baby. Don’t worry. Nothing is your fault, okay?” He nods, sucking on his thumb as you go back to the food, your mind now filled with why Ari was crying and who he was apologising to. You knew Ari was one to cry when something really hurt him. It was another one of the reasons you fell in love with him. He would let his feelings out, you had thought you found the perfect guy when he chose to communicate through problems instead of leaving, but you guess you were wrong with your judgement. “Alright, baby. The snacks are ready, and pizza is on its way. Do you want to help mummy carry the snacks to the loungeroom?” Jason nods, grabbing some of the food as you pick him up and grab the remaining. Once you’ve sat down and placed the snacks on the coffee table before you, you turn toward your son. “What do you want to watch, baby?” 

“Avengers!” He giggles, punching the air. You shake your head, smiling before putting the Avengers on, “Captin!” Your son squeals, seeing his favourite superhero on the screen. “Pow! Pow!” You smile, sinking into the couch and holding your son close, your heart finally feeling warm after feeling so cold for so long. “Mumma! Wook! Cap ‘Merica!” Jason’s head moves from you to the screen, staring wide-eyed at the blue, white and red man. “Look like daddy?” 

When those words slip from his lips, you stare at the screen, seeing the resemblance of the man you love. Your eyes move down his body and back to his face, those pretty blue eyes. You blink and shake your head. It’s your mind, and it’s playing tricks on you, making you see him because you miss him. You feel a finger poke your cheek. You look down and see your son staring at you with furrowed brows. “Yeah, baby. He looks like daddy.” You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead, smiling as he bursts into giggles. 

“Mumma?” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“You still wuv me?” He pats his chest, pouting.

“Oh, baby. Of course, I still love you and will never stop loving you.” You place him onto your lap, “Why do you think otherwise?” 

You stroke his sides as he pouts at you. “Just tought… I, bad boy, tought you stopped wuving me.” He sniffles, fat tears brimming in his eyes. 

Tears fill your eyes, bringing your son closer to you as you place a kiss on his head, pulling him into you. “I will always love you, baby. Even when you hate me, I’ll still love you.”

Jason shakes his head into your chest, “I don’ hate you! I wuv you mummy!” Hearing those words felt good... But no one would ever know how broken you really are.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.